


The Trouble With Being A Demon

by VerdantVulpus



Series: Fiends With Benefits [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alien Abduction, Aquarium Chaos, Be Careful What You Wish For, Book Boys Have It Going On, Buddy comedy, Clone Sex, Demons Smoking Pot, Dom/sub Undertones, Dopplebanging, Drunk Snakes, Foursomes Probably, Give it 3 Chapters. I dare you, Happy Endings., If You Could Would You?, Just have to work through the weirdness first, M/M, Multi, No Beta, Occasional ill-advised slaps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possibly mild dubcon, Probably full of errors, Self-Acceptance, Shameless Smut, Soon to be enthusiastic consent, Spanking happens at some point, Summoning mishaps, TV Crowley vs Book Crowley, This is Exactly as Weird as You Think BUT it is also pretty funny, Threesomes, Two Crowleys, Weird way to work your shit out but ok, Well Eventual self-acceptance, Who Better To Understand Crowley than Crowley, Would you fuck a alternate reality version of yourself, i think i'm hilarious, or overtones, tags updated as we go, that's a pun, zero regrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 116,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantVulpus/pseuds/VerdantVulpus
Summary: “Name’s Crowley,” he flashed the other demon a grin that could easily have been mistaken for a snarl or vice versa.“Fuck,” the demon groaned, running a hand through his dark hair in consternation. Crowley caught a glimpse of the demon’s watch. One of a kind. He looked down at his own wrist to see the same watch, still there.“What the shit?”“Right, so,” the other demon grumbled. “I’m Crowley.” He illustrated the point by removing his glasses and sure enough there were the eyes Crowley hated the most in the world, looking back at him with a mixture of trepidation and annoyance. “And this is, what? Some other universe or dimension or such nonsense?”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Another Crowley, Various Variations of Crowley and Aziraphale
Series: Fiends With Benefits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185548
Comments: 377
Kudos: 442
Collections: Courts GO Re-Reads





	1. No You're Not! I Am!

**Author's Note:**

>   
> moodboard by [ RedRoseWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/works)

Crowley rushed into his flat as if he were being chased by hounds of Hell. Being chased by Hellhounds was in Crowley's top 15 ways he expected to be discorportated in the last year. He was not currently being chased by Hellhounds, (or anything else for that matter) but he slammed the door in a panic anyway. Then he opened it again just to slam it once more. Finding the sound comforting he slammed the door five more times before finally stalking to his bottle closet (assorted fine whiskys, wines and spirits) and pouring himself a glass of single malt. He forgot about the glass immediately and just brought the bottle with him to the couch.

Silence descended in the cement tomb of a penthouse. Crowley took a long pull of the Scotch, swishing it around his teeth before swallowing. He glared. He shook. He took a breath before shattering the silence with a scream.

"FUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Having concluded the business of shouting obscenities at a blank wall, the demon immediately commenced the business of getting right pissed.

And why not? The world was coming to an end.

Not _The World_ world. That had been coming to an end a year ago, thwarted by a group of children, a witch, and a bumbling nerd. Crowley and Aziraphale had been there every step of the way, trying their bloody damndest to stop Armageddon, but at this point Crowley wasn’t sure they’d actually managed to do anything aside from getting themselves sacked.

So, they were traitors now. Tricked their way out of one death sentence only to spend the rest of the year looking over their shoulders. That lasted three and half months and then they both became bored of the paranoia and started to relax. Crowley spent more time at the bookshop, snoozing on the couch in the back room, drinking in the backroom, teasing the angel in the backroom, rearranging the books behind the angel’s back in the backroom. He felt safe there. He let his guard down. He didn’t see it coming until it was too late. 

He had been in the middle of one of his bouts of mischievous reshelving when Aziraphale caught him. Crowley gave him a charming grin, bracing for a row. Instead the angel had...kissed him.

Not a chaste kiss of greeting, but a desperate full kiss that had Crowley immediately on the backfoot, opening his mouth to it in want, kissing the angel back like he’d dreamed of for eons before he could come to his senses and bolt. And that’s what he did. No excuses made, weak or otherwise. He had just removed himself from the angel’s embrace and fucking ran like he was being chased by Hellhounds.

Fuck his luck that there weren’t actual Hellhounds, really. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the fall out of having badly hurt his angel’s feelings. Crowley could not get drunk quick enough. Maybe if he slept for the rest of the century Aziraphale would just forget? Sure, that had never worked in the past, but this promised to be a pretty exciting century…

“Fucking Fuck fuck bloody fuck bollocks…” Crowley grumbled, bringing the bottle back to his lips. He was about to see if he could drain the bottle in one go when he noticed a thrum of demonic energy from the direction of the front door. Crowley froze, bottle against his bottom lip, and tried to remember if he’d locked the door after the last time he’d slammed it.

Shouldn’t matter with all the wards he’d put on the flat. It wouldn’t let anyone in but him or the angel, but a Duke of Hell might be able to get around that if he was angry enough.

The demon in the corridor stopped outside the door. Crowley thought he’d heard a muffled expletive, and then the doorknob began to turn and Crowley was on his feet, dashing to the door and throwing his weight against it just as it started to open. There was a short cry of alarm on the other side, but Crowley managed to flip the lock, only feeling slightly safer and wondering how his wards had so badly failed.

“Oi!” the demon (the _other_ demon) shouted. “Lemme in, you idiot!”

“Nnnah!” Crowley shouted back. “Not gonna happen. Best be on your way, thanks!”

There was a barely audible sound of a key sliding into the lock and Crowley watched in horror as the deadbolt turned.

He hadn’t given anyone a key. Not even Aziraphale.

“I don’t know what you’re bloody playing at but I’m not letting you in this fucking flat,” Crowley snarled, bracing himself against the door. “So piss off!”

“I live here, you prat!” the other demon snarled back. “Or...I _did_ . In anycase, it’s still _mine_.”

Crowley didn’t believe the old lady he’d bought the place from in the 70’s had been a demon, but he couldn’t be 100% certain. The door started to open and Crowley slammed it shut again.

“All right, now look,” said the annoyed voice on the other side of the contested door. “You have exactly five seconds to step away from this door before I knock you on your arse!”

Crowley didn’t care for the sound of that, bracing himself as much as possible while also fumbling his mobile out of his pocket. As awkward as seeing the angel again right now might be, he was pretty sure he needed help. He’d barely gotten the shiny black rectangle out of his pocket when the door was suddenly blown off its hinges by an acutely focused galeforce wind. Crowley was sent crashing back, awkwardly hitting the concrete wall behind him. 

“Fuckin’ ow,” he winced, his head spinning as he floundered for some sort of weapon to defend himself. Hell had come to collect him and there was nowt a tyre iron in sight. The mobile! Where had his bloody phone gotten to? He recoiled when he sensed the other demon walking towards him, flinging an arm up in defense against a blow that didn’t come. He cracked one eye open and then dropped his arm limp to his side, confused.

The other demon was just a bit shorter than himself, with stylish black hair, high cheekbones and very familiar looking sunglasses. He wore a simple, if very expensive, black suit with a red tie, and shiny snakeskin boots (presumably). 

They stared at each other in shock, until Crowley remembered suddenly that his own glasses had come off in the attack and looked away from the impossible demon in order to locate them. They were his only armour.

“Who the bloody—” the suited one breathed. Crowley clocked his confusion and figured maybe— maybe— he wasn’t destined to end up in Hell today. He found his glasses bent and cracked, fixed them with an errant wave and settled them back over his golden eyes.

“Name’s Crowley,” he flashed the other demon a grin that could easily have been mistaken for a snarl or vice versa. “And since _you_ just blew _my_ door into chips why don’t we let me ask the questions now, hmm?”

“Fuck,” the demon groaned, running a hand through his dark hair in consternation. Crowley caught a glimpse of the demon’s watch. One of a kind. He looked down at his own wrist to see the same watch, still there.

“What the shit?”

“Right, so,” the other demon grumbled. “ _I’m_ Crowley.” He illustrated the point by removing his glasses and sure enough there were the eyes Crowley hated the most in the world, looking back at him with a mixture of trepidation and annoyance. They were several shades lighter, a pale yellow against the black slitted pupils, but they were definitely snake eyes. “And this is, what? Some other universe or dimension or such nonsense?”

“Um…” Crowley offered helpfully, still processing everything while the suited Crowley seemed to be barreling full steam ahead. “Did you summon me here? Because I was kinda in the middle of something back home.”

“Do I look like I bloody expected this?” Crowley snapped, pointing to the debris around him.

They stared at each other again, gears turning until they both nodded and said in unison “Aziraphale.”

“Only a matter of time before mine pops up I reckon,” the dark one muttered. “Erm... sorry ‘bout the door.” The debris vanished. The door was solidly on its hinges again.

“How did you manage that?” Crowley asked, miming the explosion with his long fingers. “ _I_ can’t do that.”

“No?” the other Crowley smirked. “You need to talk to your angel. We’ve found all sorts of new tricks by pooling our knowledge. Really gives us a leg up on the Authorities.”

“Oh shit, really?” Crowley was very interested in learning more about that, he’d even forgive the bastard’s fucking smirk. “I definitely need all the bloody help I can get.”

The other Crowley... (Anthony, from now on) frowned at that. “Maybe we better catch up, compare notes as it were.”

“Good idea,” Crowley agreed. “Drink?”

“What do you think?” Anthony snarked, dropping onto the couch in a sprawl that transcended universes. 

“What do you think?” Crowley mimicked under his breath, fetching a fresh bottle of Scotch and two glasses.

They drank and compared notes. For the most part everything lined up. They both had a fussy bookseller/principality sidekick, they both lost the antichrist and melted Ligur, they were both sacked from Hell. Anthony, however, never heard anything from Head Office again after the trial. Crowley on the other hand, had received a letter expressing exactly what he could expect when returned to Hell’s clutches. He summoned it out of the air and passed it to Anthony.

The other demon scanned it, his expression morphing from merely unimpressed to surprise, to absolute horror.

“Holy Heavenly Choir,” he swore.

Crowley nodded bleakly.

“ _T_ _orture_ I’d expect. The usual flaying, burning for lifetimes, nettle baths, that sort of thing but _this?_ ” he breathed, tossing the letter back at Crowley. “That’s bloody _inventive_ . Who the bloody hell came up with _that?_

“Dagon,” Crowley moaned.

“Dagon?!”

“Reads all the reports, doesn’t she?” Crowley grumbled. “Read all _my_ reports. The rest of the lot are dumb as box of Ligurs, but Dagon...Dagon _learns_ things.”

“Eternity!”

“Yep.”

“On your knees. Servicing _Hastur_!”

“So it says,” Crowley agreed, barely suppressing a gag.

“Well, that’s it then, innit? You’re never getting discorporated.” Anthony pulled himself up to something vaguely resembling sitting. “How are they coming after you? What do you need me to do?”

Crowley shrugged and took a sip of his Scotch. As far as he knew this letter was just a threat. If Crowley found himself hit by a bus or trampled by another mule he’d never get another glimpse of Earth. Just endless servitude to the demon who hated him the most.

“The threat doesn’t seem to be imminent,” he responded finally, brought back to the present by the other Crowley’s frantic pacing. “But if you know where I could get another bunch of Holy Water, I might find myself thirsty for some in the next couple centuries of this hanging over my head.”

Anthony snorted. “Right, like we’d ever leave Aziraphale.”

“He’ll be all right,” Crowley shrugged. “He’s clever and God still loves him. Maybe he’ll even go back. You know… Someday.” Crowley downed the rest of his Scotch, unable to deal with the pain that thought inspired in him. What a bloody mess.

The other Crowley was staring at him again. He’d missed something. 

“What’s going on with your angel?” he asked. “Something must have upset him to bring me here. Why aren’t you with him?”

“Mnnghh... you’re not gonna believe this, but the barmy bugger _kissed_ me,” Crowley groaned. Anthony looked properly confused at least, but didn’t say anything. “I don’t know what he was thinking. I panicked and left. He probably fussed himself into a right flap but I’ve no idea how or why he’d summon _you_.”

“Wait,” Anthony pushed his fingers to his temple in consternation. “Wait wait wait wait _wait a minute_ . Aziraphale kissed you. _Aziraphale_ , Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Principality of Earth, fussy bookseller, thinks tartan is stylish, still calls bicycles `velocipedes’.”

“Yeah,” Crowley chuckled fondly. “That’s the angel.”

“And you...panicked and _ran_?” Anthony smirked, crossing his arms smugly.

“Pfff. You wouldn’t?”

“I _didn’t_.” He grinned. Crowley choked on his Scotch, the whiskey inundating his sinuses with a particularly rude burn. Anthony laughed at him. “Whoooo!” he hollered. “Oh boy, I think I see where our paths have split.” He grinned at Crowley’s glare and extended his left hand to show off a stylish platinum ring. Crowley immediately forgot his ire and clutched the demon’s hand, yanking the ring closer for inspection. 

“Ugh. Black nail lacquer? Really?” Anthony muttered, but Crowley ignored him. The ring was inscribed with two wings, one set with crushed diamond, the other with crushed onyx. It was beautiful, and its meaning was agonizingly clear.

“You’re married,” Crowley gasped. “Oh shit. How?”

“Just decided to do it, really,” Anthony smiled, no smarm this time. He actually just looked...happy. Anthony leaned back on the couch and his smile grew. “This has to be why I’m here. You love him don’t you? You must do. You’re _me_. There isn’t a me that doesn’t love Aziraphale.”

“Ngk,” Crowley choked again, reaching for the bottle. “When...How long have…?”

“Well, that’s actually a matter of some debate between us,” Anthony responded. “Do you count it as the first time we admitted our feelings out loud, as he does? Or from the first time I sucked his divine cock, like _I_ do.” He flashed his fanged smile and Crowley actually spit his Scotch this time, dissolving into hacking coughs and splutters. 

“You didn’t,” he wheezed, collapsing into the chair opposite the right bastard. He felt a wave of hot rage sweep up his spine. “Don’t you fucking dare insult the angel,” he growled, once his lungs worked again.

“Insult!” Anthony looked like he was the one insulted. Maybe he was. They were married after all.

“We’re not…” Crowley tried to explain, but wasn’t sure how. “Aziraphale would never _let_ me...”

Anthony looked sad for a moment, scratched his chin in the same considering gesture as Crowley always did. “You _do_ want him, right?”

Denial jumped to Crowley’s tongue before he remembered he didn’t need to pretend. This was probably the only being he didn’t have to pretend with.

“More than anything,” he whispered. “I’ve loved him since the Beginning.”

“Yeah,” Anthony nodded. “Same.”

“But you…” Crowley gestured to the ring on the other Crowley’s hand. “He _loves_ you?”

“And your Aziraphale probably loves _you_ ,” Anthony pointed out. “He kissed you, after all.”

“No,” Crowley shook his head. “It was...something else. I’m not...I mean…” he threw up his hands in frustration. If anyone should understand this it should be _him._ “Imma _demon!_ ” Crowley snapped. “I’m a bloody demon! Of course I’m bloody in love with him. He’s perfect and good and beautiful and he does this thing where he nibbles his bottom lip or moans around his food that makes me want to come in my jeans but all I am to him is a confidant, or co-conspirator. I’ve been working my arse off just to be his bleeding _friend_!”

“Woss wrong with being a demon?” Anthony snorted, picking up the wrong thread in all this.

“ _Woss wrong with being a demon?_ ” Crowley repeated, incredulous. “WEeeellll… I’m not sure how it works where you come from but _here_ , demons are evil and generally don’t end up marrying angels.”

“Pff,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “ _Evil_. That’s all just semantics. We saved the world. We made our own side. Azriaphale likes us more than the rest of Heaven, for Hell’s sake. What does being a demon matter?”

“It matters to me!” Crowley snapped. “I’m not good. I’m not... nice. I don’t deserve someone so gorgeous and kind. That’s just basic fucking science, that is. You _obviously_ did something different.”

Anthony watched him, silently. Crowley could feel the unblinking stare behind the dark glasses. He was suddenly intensely aware of what it was like to be on the receiving end of his own predatory gaze. 

“I’m a demon all right,” Anthony agreed, his voice dark and smooth and shockingly alluring. “I’m the original tempter. I gave the humans knowledge. I gave them free will.” The dark demon rose to his feet in a fluid motion, summoning more grace than Crowley had managed in quite some time. He slowly moved around the coffee table toward Crowley, tugging his tie loose and pulling it free with one hand while the other removed the glasses and dropped them on the table with a careless clatter. Crowley swallowed hard.

“I don’t know where you got it in your ginger head that sssomehow these facts made us less desssirable,” Anthony looped his tie over Crowley’s shoulders, removing his glasses too. “Well?”

“Hhhgnnn,” Crowley wheezed, drawing his knees in against the sudden deep pang of arousal. This was very fucked up.

“Who told you that you couldn’t have anything you wanted?” Anthony demanded, threading his knee onto the seat beside Crowley’s thigh to lean over him.

“What are you doing?” Crowley hissed.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Anthony smirked down at him, threading his fingers through Crowley’s hair. 

“It _looks_ like you’re trying to seduce another version of _yourself_ ,” Crowley growled, hoping to convince this other version of _himself_ that it wasn’t working. What the Heaven did it mean that it _was definitely working!?_

“Fff fantastic,” Anthony purred. “Same page then.” He dropped his dark head and licked a thick strip up the tendons in Crowley’s neck then dipped his tongue into his ear. Crowley gasped in a mixture of surprise, shame and pleasure. No. He wouldn’t be humiliated like this! He grabbed the other demon, balling the lapels of his suit jacket into his fists and shoved him back, springing to his feet before yanking the dark demon back so he could snarl into that smug face.

“So not only are you vile enough to suggest fucking your clone, but you’d _cheat_ on _the angel_?!”

“Ahh...and _that’s_ your worry exactly,” Anthony teased. “So caught up in Aziraphale that you’re even worried about hurting a version of him you’ve never even met.”

“That’s _one_ of my concerns about this, yeah.”

“Zira and I have been together for centuries,” Anthony whispered. “We’ve been getting off together nearly since the Beginning, in fact. Getting drunk together since that started being a thing. We’ve talked about all kinds of impossible scenarios, so don’t let it surprise you that we’ve had the whole _would you fuck an alternate reality's version of yourself_ talk. And we both agreed that, yeah. I definitely _would_.”

“Oh shit,” Crowley whispered. “This can’t be bloody happening.” He now regretted pulling the other demon so flush with his own body. This move had been safer when he’d done it to the angel, but _of course_ another _Crowley_ would bloody take advantage! One hand was still twisted in his hair, but the other was slithering up his thigh and quickly robbed him of his pretense by palming his erection through his jeans. 

“The fact that you have been, I assume, fucking your own fist for 6000 years instead of bedding our angel because,” and here Anthony affected an exaggeratedly saccharine pouty voice. “ _I’m an evil demon and don’t deserve to have good things,_ ’ that— _THAT—”_ he gave Crowley’s hair a vicious tug, ripping a small cry of pleasure from his throat. " _T_ _hat_ _is i_ _nsane!_ ”

“I don’t get to soil him with—” Crowley groaned, pushing his erection against the press of the other demon’s palm. “With what I am.” He shivered when Anthony growled against his exposed throat, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He grabbed the other demon right back, twisting his long fingers into sleek black hair and pulled back hard. Anthony’s cry was nearly identical, but he was _laughing_. Crowley would fix that.

“YOU don’t get to soil him with what we are,” he seethed, shoving the other demon backwards. Anthony stumbled, but caught himself, smirk back in place, but golden eyes wary.

“Oh, if Aziraphale were capable of being soiled by me, he’d be as foul as Hastur’s bath sponge by now,” Anthony sneered.

“Gross,” Crowley gagged.

“Yeah, sorry. That’s too far,” the other demon agreed. “Point is, I’ve fucked the angel a lot. Like _a lot_ a lot. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Ssshut it,” Crowley warned. “Just bloody shut up about it, all right?”

Anthony’s smile was a slow creeping shadow of a thing. One minute he was glaring at Crowley, and then those narrow topaz eyes were shining with predatory delight, a white fanged grin splitting his otherwise handsome face. Crowley could feel the infernal build up of energy in the room. An attack was coming. He readied himself for it.

“Mmmake me,” Anthony hissed.

Crowley struck, snake bite quick, a clawed hand raking toward the demon’s eyes, but Anthony dodged, equally quick. Dimly, Crowley remembered that they’d be evenly matched, before realizing the attack he’d been expecting had been _his own_ , and all of this was very weird and confusing. He stumbled forward, unbalanced by the momentum of his aborted strike.

“Wait, fuck. M’sorry,” he muttered, but Anthony spun back and used Crowley’s momentum to slam him into the wall, pinning him there with a hand between his shoulder blades and another twisted back into his red hair. 

“Crowley?” Anthony whispered harshly against his ear.

“Mn?” grunted harshly against the wall.

“Let’s go fuck some shit up,” his counterpart hissed, and released him. Crowley paused, blinking at the unexpected suggestion. For a moment he’d half expected he was about to get thoroughly railed by another _him_ and now he felt somewhat whiplashed (and disappointed?!) but … he _did_ love to fuck shit up. He turned thirty degrees to look over his shoulder at the other demon.

“Tempting,” he smirked.

“No shit,” Anthony smirked back. “Now, does the Sea Life Aquarium exist in this London?”

An hour later the two demon’s happily strolled through the gleaming halls as one of London’s finest aquariums erupted into chaos. Anthony had immediately released every single penguin. Crowley had gone to have a heart to heart(s) with the octopus, who had also “escaped” and likely oozed about in the vents. Most of the exhibits were left completely intact except that they had fully switched locations. The seahorses were suddenly vastly more intelligent, and the turtles were suddenly vastly more purple. 

They agreed not to mess about with the aquarium's conservation efforts, both blaming the headache of angry Aziraphales to avoid admitting they respected the cause.

When it felt like their chaos had peaked, and the last ‘you are here’ map had been defaced with sharpie’d cock and balls, (a juvenile prank elevated to nobility amid the rest of the chaos) they retired to a pub to cackle of the deeds of the day. Most of the mortals had vacated the establishment shortly after the two demons started laughing. They say laughter is contagious, but _this_ laughter wasn’t anything they wanted to be infected with.

“Whooo, I have missed this,” Crowley grinned, his ribs aching from laughter. “Cheers mate,” he raised his glass. 

“Yeah, s’nothin’” Anthony shrugged. “Just another Thursday for me, really.”

Crowley calmed down then some, glancing at Anthony’s ring again. It kept gleaming at him, drawing his attention. It was bloody rude. “Sssurprised your... Aziraphale lets you get away with it,” he stumbled over his word choice, feeling awkward.

“My _husband_ honestly couldn’t be arsed about what I get up to,” Anthony smirked, clearly too perceptive for Crowley’s liking. “So long as I’m home in time for dinner and don’t mess with his first editions. He frankly prefers it, I think. I tend to annoy the shit out of him when I get bored.”

Crowley found himself smiling wistfully and immediately scowled to compensate. It sounded too much like what he’d always hoped for. Suspiciously good. It couldn’t possibly be that good.

“Your angel sounds a great deal less fussy than mine,” he muttered. He tried to flag the bartender but he’d apparently legged it with the rest of the humans. Shrugging, Crowley got up and helped himself. Anthony grinned and joined him at the bar.

“Zira gets plenty fussy, believe me,” he groaned. “Hates the way I maintain the garden. He’s always undermining my authority with the plants. And he likes things a particular way. Always worse when he starts getting stressed. He’s a right nightmare around the holidays. Things that remind him of what he’s lost, cutting his ties with Heaven.”

Crowley swallowed his beer and set the glass down, frowning. Anthony smiled tightly with a faint shrug. It _would_ be harder for Aziraphale around the holidays. He’d need to remember that. Crowley had been thinking this whole thing as a win, but surely it was a great loss for the angel. 

“How do…”Crowley cleared his throat, feeling put on the wrong foot by the shift in conversation. “How do you cheer him then?”

Anthony shrugged again and sucked his teeth. “Well, I mean, there’s the usual, little gifts. Hot cocoa, fine wine, a new book or mug. Mostly I just take him upstairs and fuck him blind for a few days.”

Crowley coughed. That was on him. He’d walked into that one. Anthony smirked evilly. Crowley tried not to glare.

“Are you going to seduce your angel?” Anthony asked sweetly. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“You’re mad,” he hissed. “Really. I’m happy for you and all— well, no. I _hate your bloody guts and wish you nothing but ill fortune_ and all— but Aziraphale can do a Hell of a lot better than _me_.”

Anthony rolled his eyes this time. “Boring,” he growled. “Who’s he gonna shack up with? Some other angel? Dull. He’d hate it and you know it. It’s only ever been you and him for 6000 years you sodding coward. Go back to that bookshop and — oh shit what now?” Anthony stood up, alarmed when a circle of light started to form under his feet. Crowley came around the counter to inspect it. 

“Shit. A summoning? Can you move?” he offered his hand in aid, even though he knew full well he wouldn’t be able to pull Anthony out of a summoning that had already found him.

Anthony grinned though as the glyphs began to light. “S’all right, Red. Look. It’s Zira. Told you he’d find me sooner or later.”

Crowley looked at the angelic script and nodded. It did look like Aziraphale’s work. He smiled sadly at his counterpart, disappointed to be parting ways so soon. He still had questions. He still needed help. Nothing for it though.

“Well… Guess this is so long,” he shrugged. Anthony took his hand and shook it as the circle started to fill in.

“Naah,” Anthony grinned. “You’re comin’ back with me.” Crowley yelped as Anthony yanked him into the circle, gripping his hand like iron, the other hand firmly grabbing his arse. 

  
“Oh, shit _fuck!_ ” Crowley squawked before the circle completed and both demons vanished with a faint pop.


	2. Get Me Back!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The circle faded and both Crowleys gave an identical shudder at the retreating sensation of the summoning. Then Anthony gave a happy sigh and Crowley made a sound that was its polar opposite. 
> 
> He was in the bookshop, except it wasn't quite right. It was cleaner, for one, and there were significantly fewer random towers of stacked books (Although there were still a few, and any Aziraphale from any universe would be quick to argue that they were never random.) The biggest bit of wrongness about the shop was that the entire layout was completely reversed.
> 
> "You…" Crowley stood frozen in incomprehension for a moment as the realization sank in. Then came explosive anger. "You bloody idiot!"
> 
> "Easy," Anthony took a step back. "I'd be careful with the shouting if I were you," there was a beat, a grin. "Which I am! So mind the shouting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to end up being more than three chapters...
> 
> CW for swears and insults and fucking while swearing and insulting.

The circle faded and both Crowleys gave an identical shudder at the retreating sensation of the summoning. Then Anthony gave a happy sigh and Crowley made a sound that was its polar opposite. 

He was in the bookshop, except it wasn't quite right. It was cleaner, for one, and there were significantly fewer random towers of stacked books (Although there were still a few, and any Aziraphale from any universe would be quick to argue that they were never random.) The biggest bit of wrongness about the shop was that the entire layout was completely reversed.

"You…" Crowley stood frozen in incomprehension for a moment as the realization sank in. Then came explosive anger. "You bloody idiot!"

"Easy," Anthony took a step back. "I'd be careful with the shouting if I were you," there was a beat, a grin. "Which I am! So mind the shouting."

Crowley grabbed the infuriating demon by the lapels of his jacket pulling him close and up onto his toes. "How the bleeding fuck am I supposed to get back!?"

"Only that Zira was in a shite mood this morning and that was _before_ I got summoned away in the middle of our spat," Crowley grinned nervously. Crowley gave him a shake. 

"You shit for brains little fuck! I'll tear your bloody he—" his threats were cut off painfully when Crowley found himself flung hard against the ceiling and held there. He drew in a pained breath after having the air knocked out of his lungs. Anthony gave him an insolent wave before being attacked himself by an affectionate blonde man. At first all Crowley could see of the man was his floppy straw coloured hair, but the plummy accent (as well as the fact that the other Crowley was grudgingly accepting the fuss instead of shredding the man's face) meant this had to be the other Aziraphale.

The spikey angelic power immobilizing him against the ceiling above them was another subtle clue.

"Dearest, you're all right?" the angel asked Anthony between kisses. "It took me ages to find you! You really gave me a fright, you awful fiend!"

"I'm _fine_ , Angel. Wossn't in any danger, actually, but good t'be home anyway. And it's hardly my fault I got torn awa— 

Aziraphale silenced his snark with a searing kiss and Crowley's eyes widened from his awkward perch on the ceiling. He was watching an impossible event unfold. Not theoretically impossible like a tap dancing toad, but actually metaphysically impossible. An Aziraphale kissing a Crowley in this loving, comfortable way.

Aziraphale had kissed him, he remembered (indeed never forgot. It was on constant replay in one part of his brain or another since the moment it happened. Crowley had an extraordinary knack of acting casual and working relatively effectively while constantly obsessing about twelve various things at a time.) Aziraphale's kiss hadn't been like this one happening below. It had been desperate, hot, almost panicked. A horrible thought was now occurring to Crowley that his angel may have been under some form of duress. A spell maybe? A curse?

And he'd run off instead of helping! And now he was pinned to a ceiling in another fucking dimension while his Aziraphale could be suffering alone!

"Fuckin' get me the Hell back!" he shouted down at the snogging immortal bastards. "I need to get back right the Hell now!"

The two broke apart reluctantly, (extremely reluctantly. Crowley now saw one perfectly manicured hand had been thrust down the front of Anthony's trousers!) The angel glared up at him for the first time and Crowley fell silent, awed.

He was a bit slimmer than his angel, but still adorably soft, dressed in khakis, and a pale blue dress shirt. Instead of an ancient waistcoat he wore a tartan (Satan! It's an immutable characteristic!) sweater vest. Instead of the long tan duster, he wore a simple cream wool cardigan. His bow tie was a calm heather grey. Little gold reading glasses sat on a sweet upturned nose above plush lips (a Cupid's bow). The same gorgeous sea-blue eyes stared up at him. Crowley was pierced by a feeling of deep recognition and something akin to love. 

Shit. Was he destined to love Aziraphale in all his permutations? Yes, of course he was. That seemed right and expected.

As was also right and expected, _this_ Aziraphale did not share his feelings. 

"Who is this?" he asked _his_ Crowley, his voice icy cold and Crowley nearly pissed himself in terror at his next realization. This Aziraphale was a Principality who would know Crowley was a demon, one that was threatening his husband, one that came across the summoning circle with him and could be presumed responsible for his abduction. Crowley was a hair's breadth away from being smited!

"Shit! Don't shoot! Fuck!" he squawked.

"He's not going to smite you, Red," Anthony drawled, before noticing that Aziraphale's hand _was_ raised in a smiting gesture and amending his tone. "Oh. Yeah. Don't shoot, sweetheart."

Aziraphale stood down and Crowley shivered violently in relief. Anthony gave the angel a disapproving frown and Aziraphale drew himself up defensively. "And why, pray tell, shouldn't I smite him?"

"It's me," Anthony gave the angel such a wide mischievous grin, clearly ecstatic to have this impossible opportunity to fluster his angel that Crowley actually snickered with him despite the mixture of anger, humiliation, and terror he'd just experience in rapid succession. 

"It's true. We're _me_ ," Crowley called down, deciding to get in on the flustering. It was one of his greatest joys after all. 

Aziraphale, prick that he was, didn't look particularly flustered. He glanced back at his husband (so weird!) with an expression of tired amusement. 

"What have you been up to, darling?"

"Just got called away and summoned outside this one's door," Anthony explained with a shrug. “Figure his Aziraphale was behind it somehow."

"Not to be rude, but my glasses are starting to slide off and I don't have a replacement set in this reality so…" Crowley tried to gesture towards his face with the limited movement allowed him. His glasses really were about to drop off his face.

Aziraphale barely moved but Crowley became a victim of physics, plummeting face first to the floor. He managed to break his fall with his knee and elbows. They did not do so willingly and complained outrageously.

"Did my circle bring him here? I felt something go amiss. It drained more of my power than usual," Aziraphale was saying. Crowley groaned and sat up awkwardly in the middle of the floor in time to see Anthony give a guilty wince.

"Shit, sorry Angel," he smiled sheepishly. "I didn't even think about that."

"It's hardly your fault dear, but—"

"It bloody _is!_ " Crowley snapped. "It's 100% his fault!"

"It is," Anthony agreed but he no longer sounded remotely contrite." It’s ‘100% my fault’. I pulled him along."

Aziraphale _finally_ stopped giving Crowley his cold little glances and his eyes widened and warmed in surprise. 

"Why?"

"Yeah, _Anthony_ ." Crowley sneered at the name, using it out loud for the first time. They'd always called each other 'Crowley' although Anthony occasionally insisted on calling him _'Red'_ which Crowley chalked up to jealousy. Now that a 3rd party was involved though it seemed like a distinction between them would be required and Crowley did not want to get stuck with something stupid. "Why _did_ you abduct me?"

"Anthony?" Aziraphale blinked. 

"Confusing for us both to be called Crowley, right? And _I'm_ Crowley."

"You're not calling me _Anthony_ ," Anthony snapped. 

"Been calling you that in my head this whole time," Crowley smirked. "And since this is all your fault, I should be able to at least keep my name."

"Lord, you truly are Crowley," Aziraphale breathed in amazement, stepping closer to him. Crowley swallowed hard at the sudden heat blooming in his chest at the angel's proximity. He was so very much like _his_ Aziraphale, and yet incredibly _different_. And he looked great. Smelled good too. Smelled like home. Confusing.

"May I?" he asked, reaching slowly for Crowley's glasses. Crowley circumvented the gesture by removing them himself and putting them in his jacket pocket. He couldn't risk losing them.

Aziraphale gasped a bit at the sight of his naked eyes. Crowley winced at the sound and the angel's expression softened into fond concern. "Oh, my dear. Are you embarrassed about your lovely eyes? Why? I adore them."

"Ng...um," Satan's bollocks! Did Crowley wish he wasn't getting an erection right now. "M'not. Just...all this is weird."

"You need to be careful about your praise, love," Anthony warned the angel who immediately flushed with embarrassment. Those blue eyes flicked down to Crowley's hips so briefly Crowley might have missed it if he weren't staring at the angel like a lovesick puppy.

_Shit! Wot?!_

Crowley needed to change the subject immediately. Fortunately Anthony hadn’t answered his question, and that conversation was highly likely to keep Crowley furious. Anger should be safe. He didn’t get turned on by being angry...except when he did. Shit, it had been a long dry spell too. At least a couple decades before he took over Nanny duties for Warlock. No chance of getting it on with someone when the angel was so close he could almost smell him…

_Shit. Stop thinking about your dick!_

“The matter at hand,” he reminded them, trying to get control of his rebellious body. “Why am I here?”

“Because he—” and here Anthony pointed almost accusingly at Aziraphale, “is the most important person on the whole bloody planet, you imbecile, and you know it. You’re going to fucking ruin everything and I won’t stand for it.”

“M’not!” Crowley argued, happily angry again. “What the blazes would you know about it, anyway? If anything is ruining anything it's you by dragging me here when my angel is probably in bloody danger!”

“Good Lord, _what_ ?” Aziraphale exclaimed. “You mean to tell me that there is a version of _me_ out there in trouble and you two are standing about here hissing at each other?!”

“Bah, he’s fine,” Anthony rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.

“You don’t know that!” Crowley snapped.

“Is that why your Aziraphale summoned my Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, fussing with his ring. “I suppose I shouldn’t have called him back then, but honestly how was I to know?”

“He’s not in any danger, Angel,” Anthony reiterated in annoyance. “This bloody great coward just ran off on him after a bout of snogging and now he’s probably heartbroken, but otherwise _fine_.”

“Both of you start making sense this instant!” Aziraphale commanded, and the Crowleys immediately stopped bickering to look at the glowering angel. The voice he used was dark and confident and a little dangerous. It did not help Crowley with his struggle for control over his libido. Anthony seemed similarly affected and to Crolwey’s dismay the other Serpent smoothly dropped to his knees in front of the angel.

“They’re not together in his universe, Angel,” Anthony explained calmly, still on his knees, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “No idea why, since this one is clearly infatuated, (Crowley made himself scoff at this if only for appearances) but they’ve never even kissed.”

“Never?” Aziraphale looked perplexed, looking up at Crowley now in astonishment. Crowley might have had a response for that if he wasn’t still tied up in knots over the whole submissive kneeling thing. _Did not see that coming._

“I gathered that his angel worked up the courage at last to kiss him, and he ran off.” Anthony continued, shooting Crowley a disappointed scowl. “Neither of us know why I was first summoned though.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed. “I still don’t understand why you’d bring him here then? He ought to be trying to fix his mistake.”

Crowley scoffed again and this time he did mean it.

“He doesn’t think he deserves him,” Anthony shrugged. “He was going to push him away. I figured that might be worse than disappearing, especially since the angel is be smart enough to figure out something happened to his demon.”

“Is he?” Crowley asked skeptically. This was one of his many concerns about this. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Aziraphale to be very clever, but rather that the circle had abducted him from a pub on the other side of London, and he didn’t see how the angel was likely to find out about it.

“Why wouldn’t you deserve your Aziraphale?” Aziraphale asked, utilizing the maddening Aziraphalean ability to grasp on to the wrong detail of a conversation.

“Demon,” the Crowleys responded in unison before glaring at each other. Well, _Crowley_ glared. Anthony just looked smug. “Look. Something made my angel act this way. He’s never done anything like that before. I don’t know if it is a spell or some kind of...of...lust curse. I shoulda seen it sooner and gone back to investigate instead of getting caught up gallivanting around with _you_ . He isn’t fine. He would never _ever_ kiss a demon. Do you know how hard it was to even get him to admit we might be friends!?”

“See?” Anthony sighed at Aziraphale. “He’s going to ruin it.”

“Yes, I see,” Aziraphale agreed sadly, thus making it harder for Crowley to know who to glare at more. “You may get up dear. I hadn’t meant for you to kneel. I simply wanted answers.”

Anthony got to his feet, dusting off his knees, not that dust would dare stick to his trousers. Crowley sneered at him.

“You kneel before your husband, but _I’m_ the one ashamed of being a demon?” he hissed. 

“You’ve misread the situation,” Anthony assured him, but Crowley didn’t see how he could unless the two of them were…

Oh.

“Seriously?” Crowley stared. “Wow. all right… so, one more thing that’s different, I guess.”

“Oh, you can’t know that,” Aziraphale smiled at him then, reaching out to toy with the ends of Crowley’s grey scarf. “After all, if you and your Aziraphale haven’t even kissed yet, then you obviously haven’t discussed the more intimate matters of your relationship.”

He was using that voice again, slowly twisting his manicured fingers in Crowley’s tie, letting it tighten around his throat. It occurred to the demon that he should probably put a stop to it. It was distracting, and making it harder to maintain a position of strength. It was also, quite possibly, the sexiest thing Crowley had ever seen, and he was quietly dying on his feet.

“You’re wild, and angry and insecure,” Aziraphale continued. “I could make you feel secure, Crowley,” he offered, and Crowley swallowed hard around an intense thrum of arousal. “I could make you feel safe.”

“Fucking yes…” It was out of his lips before he could stop it. He snapped his mouth shut in embarrassment, finally driven to action by his mortification. He tried to twist away but the angel jerked him forward by the scarf and he stumbled into the angel instead. “Sorry! Sorry! Shit!” he floundered trying to right himself but he was still being manipulated by his scarf. He froze when he felt warm lips press a kiss to his forehead. He looked up slowly, amazed. Aziraphale smiled fondly and kissed him again, softly on the mouth, holding him close. Crowley surprised himself by instantly melting into the embrace, moving his lips against the angel’s, breathing in his scent (the same scent!) and clinging to his silly woolen cardigan.

It did feel safe.

But it wasn’t real. This wasn’t his angel. This wasn’t his world.

“Hmmm,” Aziraphale mumurred happily. “He kisses just like you, darling.”

“Wouldn’t know,” Anthony snarked behind him. “You’re hogging him, you greedy tit.”

Aziraphale chuckled and kissed Crowley again, deeply this time, leaving the demon breathless. Crowley stumbled slightly, unconsciously chasing those warm lips until he lost balance. Aziraphale steadied him on his feet before walking a lustful circle around him, eyeing him like a souffle.

“You are delicious,” he licked his lips and Crowley nearly groaned. “So amazingly similar to my Crowley. Oh, but this flame-bright hair! And do you have freckles? My God, you’re a treat.”

“Yeah yeah,” Anthony muttered off to the side. “Just remember the real meal is over here, right?”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, who was once again paralysed by arousal and disquiet.

_This is singlehandedly the weirdest sodding thing to happen to me in my very long, very weird life._

“My husband is jealous,” Aziraphale grinned, playing with his scarf again, the collar of his jacket. “Oh look, love. The underside of the collar is red. I knew there had to be red in the outfit somewhere! Predictable.” Crowley scowled at him, but there was no heat in it. The angel returned to his husband to play with his red tie, and Crowley figured he may have a point. They did seem to favour the same colour scheme. Likely had done since the beginning.

That likely meant the same of the angel though, a long history of whites, creams, tans and golds. It didn’t seem worth mentioning though.

“Have you two…” Aziraphale began, trailing off suggestively. Anthony shook his head and Crowley choked on his own tongue. Bloody Hell. They really _had_ talked about it!

“Well, best get on with it, I think,” the angel continued, eyeing Crowley speculatively. “Might be easier to plan our next move in all this if he’s relaxed.”

“Do I get a say in this?!” Crowley spluttered.

“Do you think you can tire him out, dear?” Aziraphale teased his husband, apparently not buying Crowley’s indignation. “He seems pretty feral.”

“You wound me, Angel,” Anthony smirked.

“I kid,” Aziraphale kissed his cheek. “You know I have nothing but respect for your skill and endurance.”

“Hhhk — ehhhh, Would you both bloody stop it?” Crowley grumbled, hating how much it sounded like begging. “I haven’t agreed to...to… and anyway, _you_ _shouldn’t_ …”

“Why not,” Anthony asked, taking off his glasses. “Why shouldn’t we, Red?” The tie was coming off now. Crowley felt his restraint cracking. Why shouldn’t he? He clearly wanted to. He was unattached and this Aziraphale obviously didn’t mind. Was _glad_ of the idea if the blown pupils and wet lips were anything to judge by.

“Just...seems a little weird?” he offered weakly, realizing it came out like a question.

“We’re demons,” Anthony grinned. That had always been Crowley’s go-to excuse for doing anything he had ever remotely waffled about. _Should I do X? Of course I should. Imma demon._

It was so ingrained in his psyche now. Maybe that was why he was powerless to mount an argument against it.

“We _are_ demons,” he agreed, feeling himself relax a little.

Crowley found himself being backed into the heavy bookshelf behind him. Anthony hadn’t even moved. Just that predatory stare had Crowley on the back foot, feeling hunted and thrilling at it. He’d forgotten he could do this. He’d forgotten how good it felt. How good it was _going_ to feel.

Shit, he was so hard. These tight jeans were becoming a problem.

“Hmmmm…” Anthony smiled wickedly as he began to slide his way closer. “You might want to make yourself a tea and find a good book, Angel,” he told his Aziraphale,never taking those topaz eyes off Crowley. “Think I might be a while.”

“Do mind the books,” Aziraphale sighed in a somewhat defeatist way that showed he knew they absolutely wouldn’t mind the books. The angel cast another approving glance at them both (which they sensed via periphery as neither Serpent was willing to risk looking away from the other) and left the room.

“What’s your plan here?” Crowley peeled himself off the bookshelf, determined not to be seduced like some trembling ingenue. “You really going to fuck your better looking self with your husband in the other room? You _know_ he can hear everything right?”

“Yes. To both questions,” Anthony smirked. “As for ‘better looking’, please, Red. Don’t you know that confidence is sexy? I’ve got that in spades. You don’t.”

“Oi, fuck you,” Crowley snapped. “I’ve got —”

“Figure we’ll fuck at _least_ once,” Anthony continued as if Crowley hadn’t spoken. “Pretty sure we’ll have to get a first pop out of the way. Maybe fight a bit next to figure out who’s gonna top, before we agree it’ll be me.”

“There’s a difference between confidence and delusion, you know,” Crowley smirked. 

“And by then I imagine Zira will be done with his tea and might be at a leaving off point in his book. He’s definitely going to want to fuck you, so we might both have a go, but for that we should probably head off to the cottage.”

Crowley’s brain stuttered to a halt now and his cock twitched, leaking into his pants. He didn’t quite understand how his mouth could be watering and feel dry at the same time. “Cottage?” he asked, because he couldn’t think of a single other thing to say.

“You thought we lived in the little flat above the shop?” Anthony laughed. “No no no.”

Crowley felt a pathetic wave of guilt and frowned. “Wait. I...shit. I gotta get back. Even if Aziraphale isn’t in trouble, he’s gotta be completely turned inside out with worry.”

“Even if you’re just a demon?” Anthony smirked.

“He’s still Aziraphale, Crowley,” Crowley sighed. “He _Aziraphales_ about things.”

The other Crowley smiled more fondly then. He understood. Of course he did. “I can almost guarantee that my Angel is working on a way to contact yours. He’ll know more than either of us what yours is going through. He’ll work it out. We’ll just be in the way.”

That seemed true. Crowley didn’t have any wisdom to offer towards the cause, and of course Aziraphale would be concerned about another Aziraphale’s mental anguish. 

“Better?” Anthony smiled.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Crowley answered with a sigh of relief.

“So glad I could help,” Anthony gushed sweetly then struck quickly, grabbing Crowley by the lapels and pulling him into a bruising kiss. Crowley attacked back, sucking his bottom lip and threading his long fingers in his shiny black hair. Anthony slammed him back against the bookshelf with a pleased grunt, slotting his thigh between Crowley’s legs and pressing their hips together. He thrust against Crowley hard and slow, exactly as Crowley liked it.

Because, of course.

“Shit, S’good,” Crowley groaned.

“Mmph, yeeaap,” Anthony huffed, sliding his tongue up his neck. “Definitely good. Gonna bruise from how good it is.”

“Promises promises,” Crowley chuckled. Anthony smirked knowingly, spun them around and shoved Crowley back hard. He slid on the polished wood to come to rest on his arse, leaning against the bottom of the sofa. Anthony lunged at him before he could react, straddling his hips and grinding down. Crowley’s shout of protest abruptly turned into a cry of pleasure, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment even as he tilted his hips to meet the other demon’s thrusts.

“Shit, oh bloody—”

“Ng, That’s good. Like that…”

Crowley let his head tip back against the seat of the sofa, enjoying the way Anthony rode him with firm strokes.

“You’re so hard,” Anthony groaned, licking and sucking along Crowley’s jaw. “How can you stand these bloody tight jeans, mate? You must be aching.”

“S’not usually a problem— ngk… but yeah...It’s a _problem_.”

“So take them off!” 

“Would, but some arsehole is sitting on me!” Crowley laughed. 

“Bloody useless,” Anthony groaned into his neck before he flicked his fingers at Crowley’s hips and suddenly he was wearing nothing but his pants. Feeling this unfair, Crowley snapped and sent all of Anthony’s clothing to the far side of the room. The dark haired demon shot him a quick sardonic look.

“Ohoho, I see how it is,” he jeered playfully. “I at least left your pants. It’s called manners.”

“Fuck manners,” Crowley groaned. “You’re killing me here, and you know what’s waiting for me if I get discorporated!”

“Ugh. Are you trying to kill my erection?” Anthony scolded, thrusting hard against the waistband of Crowley’s pants, leaving a warm smear against his stomach.

“Gnnn nope nope nope,” Crowley groaned, miracling a palmful of lube in his hand before wrapping it around Anthony’s hard prick. “This should help.”

“Sshhiiiit, _yes_ ,” Anthony moaned. “Hard!...yeah. emmph...Ah!”

“So fucked up,” Crowley groaned, pumping slower.

“Stop thinking so much, damn it,” Anthony growled in his ear before biting his shoulder. Crowley threw his head back again and cried out in pleasure, pressing into his feet to thrust his hips off the floor. Anthony gasped and shouted at the added friction before roughly grabbing Crowley’s face and kissing him again. 

Their tongues warred between their mouths, jockeying for position until Anthony grabbed Crowley around the chest and pulled him back to lie down on the floor. He grabbed hold of the black waistband of Crowley’s pants with such haste he scratched the pale skin on his right hip as he tore them down his long legs and tossed them aside.

“Shit, lookit that,” Anthony laughed, gripping Crowley’s freed erection. “Damn thing is a fucking carbon copy.” 

Crowley growled. Hands on his cock felt amazing! It really had been too long, and this fucker just wanted to compare members? He rolled Anthony back and pulled himself on top of him, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck until the other demon keened. They grabbed and stroked each other wherever they could reach until they found a rhythm, Crowley’s fingers back in Anthony’s raven hair, Anthony’s hands clutching Crowley’s hips. They were thrusting hard and fast now, their cocks sliding together between them, Crowley’s bollocks pillowed by Anthony’s and it was fantastic.

“This all right?” Crowley asked, biting an earlobe hard enough to bruise. Anthony gave a snarl of exasperation and flipped them. Crowley was sent arse over tit against the coffee table, knocking over a pile of books (earning a sharp admonishing “Crowley!” from the other room which both Crowleys delighted in.) Anthony grabbed Crowley’s wrists and pinned them to the rug, dragging them high above his head to stretch out his long arms. 

“This all right?” Anthony mocked, grinding against Crowley viciously and making them both moan.

“Unnh… yep…” Crowley gasped, no longer possessing the brain power to pick up on mockery. “Probably — ah! — probably should have picked a better place to crash about though.”

“Demon,” Anthony huffed, by way of explanation. “Crash about wherever— ah! Ah! — I bloody want.”

Crowley struggled to free his wrists, but it was a token effort. It felt good to be restrained, how did he not know? _Anthony_ obviously knew. What _else_ did he need to know?

“Harder!” he groaned. “Come on you snide bastard! Hard!”

“Ah! You fuckin’ — demanding ginger shit!” Anthony wrapped his hands around both their cocks and squeezed, snapping his hips against Crowley’s. It was good and he was close, but Crowley wanted more.

“More! I need — ah, ah AH fuck! Give me more! I’m so close damn it, just —”

“Would you fucking _come_ already” Anthony growled against his neck. Crowley was jostled roughly for a moment as the dark haired demon reached around underneath and unceremoniously shoved two miraculously slick fingers into his arse. The shock of pain-pleasure and subsequent stretch was more than enough to tip Crowley over into the brink and he was coming hard between them, mouth wide in a silent scream as he broke the multi-decade dry spell with a beautifully powerful orgasm. It just kept going, leaving him hyperventilating as Anthony groaned and spilled between them at last. 

Crowley gasped in breath, heart racing in his chest as his muscles melted into the floor in post-coital bliss. Any shame he might have felt about coming with his clone was still miles off and all he could manage now was a gooey sense of satisfaction. 

He looked up at Anthony eventually to see that the other Crowley wasn’t nearly as demolished and just looked smug. Crowley immediately tried to control his breathing again, desperate to regain some dignity. Anthony grinned at him.

“Don’t get weird,” he cautioned. “S’natural your outta shape. When was the last time you had a go that wasn’t off the wrist?”

“Few decades,” Crowley admitted.

“Yeah, see, I got my dick wet last night,” Anthony shrugged. “Married life’s good for stamina.”

“My dear, I _know_ I didn’t just hear you refer to our lovemaking as ‘getting your dick wet’" came a disapproving voice behind them.

“ _Shit_ ,” Anthony whispered. “No? I would never…”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. His bliss evaporating at the sound of the angel’s voice. Now he just felt sticky, naked, and _under someone’s husband (again)._ Anthony, however, didn’t seem remotely concerned, although he did wave away the mess between them. 

Aziraphale sat on the sofa above them and ran his hand lovingly through Anthony’s hair. “Well? You can strike that off your bucket list, darling,” he smiled, looking over them both with more than a little heat.

_So weird._

“Did you figure out how to send me back?” Crowley asked the angel, flopping his hand above his head looking for his pants.

“No,” Aziraphale answered. “Your Aziraphale will have to recall you, however I did manage to make contact with him. He knows you’re safe at least.”

“When’s he gonna to recall me?” Crowley asked, feeling himself blush. “Because I should probably be wearing trousers if he does…”

_So very weird_.

“I’m not certain,” Aziraphale shrugged, smiling down at them both. “I admit I was a little distracted.”

“I bet,” Anthony grinned, finally untangling himself from Crowley to join his husband on the sofa. Crowley scooted back and grabbed his pants, hauling them on quickly before looking around for the rest of his clothing.

“Um… where are my clothes?"

Anthony summoned them back with a wave and Crowley started getting dressed.

“Whatcha doing, Red?” Anthony drawled, smirking horribly.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Crowley smirked back. “If I’m going back, I’m not going to be naked when I do. I told you, _my_ Aziraphale isn’t into that.”

_And frankly it’s still bloody weird that yours is!_

“That’s not going to happen for a while, dear boy,” Aziraphale frowned. “I’m afraid the other angel isn’t quite sure how to do it yet.”

Crowley paused in the act of buttoning his jeans to stare at the angel. “Whaddya mean he doesn’t know how to do it? He summoned _him_!” Crowley pointed at Anthony.

“Yes…” Aziraphale whinged, toying with his ring again on his lap. “However, it would seem that he didn’t really _intend_ to do that either, and he’s still not quite sure how he managed it. If he were to try again, he might end up summoning _my_ Crowley again, or perhaps some other version, or another demon entirely, although I suspect it will simply not work a second time.”

“Why?!” Crowley was beginning to panic. “How hard is it to summon a fucking demon? _Humans_ can do it!”

“Humans summon demons _from their_ _own universe_ , generally, and usually at some cost,” Aziraphale corrected him. “Crowley’s summoning to your reality was accidental. It would be impossible to replicate. Aziraphale will have to learn how to summon you the way I recalled my husband, and he currently doesn’t have that ability.”

“Wh...Wait...wot? Why? _Wot?!_ Wot was he bloody _trying_ to do?!” Crowley was definitely panicking now.

“Oh dear, you really should take a breath, darling,” Aziraphale fussed, joining Crowley and sitting him down on the sofa beside Anthony. “You’re likely to faint if you keep that up.”

Crowley _was_ feeling a little woozy. He forced himself to take a few calming breaths. Anthony folded his arm over his bare shoulder in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting but only served to remind Crowley that he was half-naked beside his clone who was fully naked _and this was all so bloody weird!_

“Am I trapped here?” he whispered. There were definitely worse places to be trapped. There were prospects here that were incredibly tantalizing, and Crowley would dearly love to explore them _thoroughly_ before leaving, but he did want to leave. He wanted _his_ angel, even if he’d never have what these two had. He needed _his_ angel.

“He was upset when you left,” Aziraphale said finally, looking a bit sad and a lot uncomfortable with this subject. “You seemed to have hurt him quite a lot, I’m afraid.”

“Is he under a spell? Could you tell if he was under a spell?” Crowley blurted out.

“No, you twit. He’s in love with you,” the angel chided. “Stop being stupid. I’m trying to tell you what happened.” Crowley glared up at him stubbornly. Aziraphale absolutely _wasn’t_ in love with him. People didn’t spontaneously fall in love in minutes, especially not fussy Principalities for demons currently mucking up their alphabetizing. However, clearly _this_ Principality was in a flipping _mood_ and wouldn’t see reason so Crowley didn’t argue the point.

“He prayed for you, darling,” Aziraphale told Anthony, who’s expression of shocked dismay must have been equal to Crowley’s own because the angel made a soft tittering “Aww” sound at them before continuing. “It wasn’t anything specifically targeted but rather a prayer for _someone_ to help Crowley finally see his worth. Someone who would understand.”

“Fuck,” Crowley grumbled. “This is Mother’s doing?”

Aziraphale seemed skittish at the prospect, but shrugged. “ _Somehow_ , his prayer was answered. Crowley _is_ likely the only one who would understand, and he _could_ help you.”

“I wouldn’t need help if this bastard hadn’t abducted me!” Crowley shouted.

“You were gonna ruin it,” Anthony shrugged, unapologetic.

“Stop sayin’ I was gonna ruin it!” Crowley shouted again.

“Would you both kindly shut the fuck up?” Aziraphale snapped. Crowley tried desperately to reconcile the casual swearing with the bow tie and his brain shorted out. “I’m afraid the matter of who’s responsible for your being here is moot,” the angel continued in a chiding tone. “The fact of the matter is that until your Aziraphale is strong enough to breach universes you are, in fact, trapped here.”

Crowley felt like he’d just been slapped. He was cold. Lost.

“At this point, it honestly might be easier to bring your Aziraphale _here_ ,” the angel continued, and just like that hope flared again in Crowley’s chest.

“Yes! Do it, Angel! I desperately want to meet him,” Anthony cheered. “Holy fuck we’re going to blow his fussy little mind!”

“You can stay with us until we have a better plan, Red,” Aziraphale added, smiling fondly at his husband. “Summoning an angel isn’t as easy, especially if I’m basically summoning myself. But _if_ I can manage it, then Crowley and I can teach him the circle. He’ll be able to summon you back no matter where you get taken in the future.”

Crowley wanted to feel hopeful about that but it seemed insurmountable. And Aziraphale had just called him ‘Red’ so he didn’t even get to have his name after all.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, desperate to do anything he could to see his Aziraphale again. “Can I lend you some energy? Give you a proper description? A postal address? Anything?”

Aziraphale chuckled and shook his head. “You can do what your Aziraphale prayed for and learn from your mentor,” he smiled. “Maybe by the time I pull your angel here, you might be ready to face him.”

Crowley didn’t like the sound of that at all. Sounded like therapy...but from himself. He’d be the worst fucking therapist. Holy fuck. This was going to be a bloody shit show.

“What a bloody shit show, eh?” Anthony patted him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had something witty to write here.


	3. Show Me Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is uncomfortable to learn that there are so many aspects of himself he's been unaware of.

Dinner was awkward. 

The husbands cooked together with a practiced ease while Crowley drank their wine and prowled around their cottage like a caged animal.

The cottage was horrifically _perfect_ . Large gardens and plenty of carefully frightened houseplants, walls lined with bookshelves, furniture that looked picked from a designer showroom but was actually cozy. A harmonious blend of Crowley and Aziraphale. It was comfortable and he loved it. It was an _awful_ thing to show him.

He leaned against the doorframe watching the husbands and sipped his wine slowly. It was delicious (obviously) and he was feeling very tempted to get royally smashed but survival instincts kyboshed that. The other two didn't _seem_ like a threat. This Aziraphale (Anthony called him _Zira_ as well as Angel) appeared to be trying to get him home and willing to accommodate him until then. The other Crowley was a dick, but in that way Crowley appreciated. He knew what he wanted and intended to get it. He was honest. Crowley used to be like that.

About most things anyway.

So far, Anthony really did seem to be just a happier (and clearly more satisfied) version of himself, sniggering over tossed salad jokes with the angel rolling his eyes. But it wasn't out of the realm of possibility to imagine a Crowley so full of self-loathing that he'd be glad of the opportunity to hack apart another version of himself.

So it didn't _seem_ _likely_ that this whole thing was a plot to kill him, but he was definitely staying sober until he got back where he belonged.

"Are you two gonna murder me?" he asked suddenly. Might as well ask, right? The angel might at least have the decency to look guilty about it and give them away.

He didn't look guilty. He looked completely confused. A good sign. 

Anthony, however, seemed to consider it though (which was also a good sign. If he'd protested too quickly that would have been suspicious.)

"Depends on how annoying you are, I'd think," the other demon smirked at him.

"He is another _you_ , my dear. We can't in good conscience expect him to have any control over that," Zira teased. "Especially if he hasn't had the benefit of his angel's stabilizing influence." 

Anthony scoffed and rolled his eyes (he apparently didn't wear the dark glasses at home. Crowley, however, was considering sleeping in his.) Crowley smirked at the couple in a sleazy way he hoped conveyed his disgust and condescension.

"We'd be quick about it though," Anthony quipped, obviously revisiting the murder scenario. The smirk must have worked. "Not big on torture, us. Be relatively painless."

"Crowley! How could you say such a thing?" Zira scolded. "He must be so overwhelmed, the poor thing."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, _you poor thing_ ," Anthony mocked his husband while addressing Crowley. "Would you prefer to be treated like a poor thing, _you poor thing?_ "

"Preferred the murder talk, actually," Crowley smiled over the rim of his glass. 

"I'm off to set the table," Zira huffed, seizing a stack of plates and cutlery. "You two deserve each other,"

"We _are_ each other," the Crowleys retorted as the angel left the room.

So dinner was awkward. 

Anthony and Zira were clearly at odds about how to treat Crowley, taking the occasional jab at each other between bouts of strained politeness. Crowley pushed his food around his plate with his fork, ready to climb out of his skin. He waited for what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time before asking for a place to put his head down.

Now he was alone in a strange guest room bed staring despondently at the ceiling. He’d summoned himself some black satin pyjama bottoms and climbed into the soft bed, hoping he might pass out immediately and be spared a night of endless dark thoughts. Instead he was staring at the ceiling, despondently. It was going to be a long night.

So he wasn’t sure how to feel when the door opened a couple hours later and Anthony walked in, shutting the door behind him. He was wearing a loose Tee-shirt with the logo of a band Crowley had never heard of, and grey plaid pyjama bottoms. Crowley eyed them with exaggerated contempt.

“Figured you’d still be awake,” Anthony said softly before noticing his judgmental gaze. “Oh, yeah. Tartan. I know. They were an anniversary gift from the git. It makes him happy.” Anthony shrugged, and sat on the edge of the bed, apparently immune to the level of shame he should be wearing with those trousers. “Thought maybe you might be in here quietly panicking. Do you want some company?”

“Meh. Depends,” Crowley grumbled. “You gonna do something weird to me?”

Anthony watched him for a moment, frowning. “Back at the shop. Did you not want…?”

Crowley bolted upright, embarrassed and angry. “If I didn’t then it wouldn’t have bloody happened. I’m not completely powerless you know!”

“Yeah, good,” Anthony still seemed a little unconvinced. “So waddya mean by ‘do something weird to you’?”

“Ugh… just...fucking _revelations_ ,” Crowley sighed, sinking back into the mattress. “It's a lot just to know there’s another _me_ , let alone that they’re living a life I always wanted and can’t bloody have. And then to learn there’s shit about me that _I_ don’t even know…” Crowley growled and made a sweeping gesture of exasperation. “I’ve been me for over six fucking millennia. How can there be anything about myself I don’t know!”

“Well… we’re pretty blooded minded, aren’t we?” Anthony flopped down beside Crowley above the blanket to join him in staring at the ceiling. “Always focused on the next thing, the last thing, the things that might bite us, the things we gotta bite first. Not much time for _introspection_ , which is more often than not, the whole point. Dangerous to get too far up your own arse.”

“Still, it’s not like I’m a blushing virgin,” Crowley insisted. “I should know about the whole...thing between you and the angel.”

He _was_ blushing now. The kneeling had really surprised him. The subsequent deep arousal he felt when Zira had used that look, that _voice_ , had surprised him. 

Anthony, however, wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. “It’s just _him,_ you know. No one else. You _couldn’t_ know ‘bout it. There’s no one else I trust like I do him. When he’s like that, it makes all the noise in my head fall away and I’m present with him. Can’t do that with anyone else. Not in my...Mmnngh... My _demonic makeup_ , I guess.”

“Ah,” Crowley nodded. That made sense to him and he was relieved to hear it. Aziraphale was different. Of course _he’d_ be different with Aziraphale. Anthony was giving him a speculative look and Crowley found that irritating. “Wot?”

“Most of the stuff I know, it’s only because Zira showed me,” he said, frowning. Crowley snarled soundlessly. He fucking knew what the difference between them was. The bastard didn’t have to rub it in. 

“I... could show you,” Anthony continued, hesitantly. “If you want.”

Crowley looked back up at the ceiling and considered this. He didn’t have a clue what that meant. He didn’t like the idea of there being surprises about himself that he might stumble upon accidentally some day, or worse yet, never learn at all.

“Ng umm. What do you have in mind?”

Anthony’s eyes tracked down his body, thoughtfully, and Crowley snuggled deeper into the blankets, suddenly nervous. Anthony noticed the movement and drew back a bit. 

“There’s this spot on my scalp, just above the nape of my neck,” Anthony turned away to show Crowley the area he meant, a couple centimeters into where his neck vanished into thick black hair. “Sssensitive as anything. Did you know ‘bout that one?”

Crowley pressed his lips together, unconsciously running a hand through his own red hair. He didn’t know. He admitted as much and Anthony turned back to look at him. “Might not be the same for you. Turn over.”

Crowley probably shouldn’t, but he wanted to know. He rolled over onto his side, exposing his back and waited. A moment later he felt Anthony’s fingers run through his hair, gently teasing at his scalp. Crowley closed his eyes and sighed quietly. It did feel good. Then the demon’s fingernail scratched lightly at the base of his skull and a hiss was drawn from Crowley’s throat. Satan! It felt good. He moaned lightly before he could stop himself.

“Right?” Anthony murmured behind him, running his nails lightly over the area again. “Bloody amazing how good this spot feels. ‘Course Zira’s fucking _weaponized_ it. Uses it against me when he thinks I’m getting ‘overexcited’, turns me into a boneless mess, the utter bastard.” Anthony brought his other hand into Crowley’s hair then, carding the crimson waves with his fingers while continuing to scratch along the base of his skull. “Shit, this red hair is gorgeous. How’s it your angel has kept his hands off you?”

“Still a demon,” Crowley sighed faintly, glad Anthony couldn’t see his eyes fluttering back in his skull at the feeling of gentle touches through his hair. There wasn’t anything particularly sexual about it, and yet he was hard as marble inside his loose satin trousers. Another moment of gratitude for the thick blanket between them.

“ _Still a demon_ ,” Anthony mocked, and gave Crowley’s hair a punishing tug. Crowley bit his lip to keep from moaning. Anthony went back to gently scratching and massaging his scalp. “Is your Zira blonde like mine?”

“More,” Crowley smiled, picturing his angel. “He’s got these ridiculous white-blonde curls. They look so soft. And he’s a bit rounder in parts, but strong. He’s got the same unwarranted fondness for tartan as yours, but mostly keeps it contained to his bow tie and socks so it’s manageable outside the shop where he’s got tartan pillows or throws or shit.”

“Horrible angel,” Anthony sniggered.

“The absolute worst,” Crowley agreed, missing him painfully.

“Give me your hand,” Anthony suggested suddenly. “I’ll show you something else.”

Crowley reluctantly offered his hand, half rolling back towards the demon. Anthony turned his wrist over to expose the underside of Crowley’s arm before lightly trailing his fingers up his forearm and elbow. Crowley gasped in shocked delight and dropped his head back to the bed. Anthony grinned and did it again. 

“Wot the bloody—”

The inside of Crowley’s elbow had a very similar level of sensitivity as the base of his scalp. Another innocuous part of his body deciding to spontaneously become erogenous. 

“Relaxing, right?” Anthony murmured.

“Nnnnnggg,” Crowley nodded, not feeling remotely relaxed. He cock was leaking now.

“The feet are similar,” Anthony continued as he lightly stroked up and down Crowley’s arm. “You should have seen the first time Zira washed my feet in Rome. Perfectly innocent act of respect, he thought until I exploded like a bloody firework,” he groaned.

“Thought you said this _wasn’t_ sexual,” Crowley hissed, but he didn’t pull his arm away either.

“It isn’t, but it was _then_. I was so touch starved at the time, everything set me… off…oh.” Anthony trailed off and Crowley did snatch his arm back then. “Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot. You all right?”

“FFffffft...Foot washing in Rome,” Crowley growled, curling up in a ball around his impudent cock. “You really _have_ been together a long time.

“Yeah…” Anthony seemed uncomfortable now. “I blame the oysters, personally.”

Crowley smirked slightly at that. The oysters had nearly done him in too. He remembered walking back from the restaurant with Aziraphale, drunk as he’d ever been and hard as anything between the legs. Wearing an effort had been part of the fashion at the time, and he wouldn’t have passed for human without one. The oysters, and the smell of his angel so close by, the sound of his voice, his laugh…

“We were walking home from that stupid restaurant he dragged me to,” Anthony sighed, seemingly reading his mind. “Out of the bloody blue he starts talking about the bathhouse, what they got up to there."

"Mmn," Crowley nodded. It had been the same for him. _(Also this conversation wasn't helping him control his erection!)_

"Bloody angel doesn't know what he's doing when he talks like that," he growled. Aziraphale was maddeningly obtuse on any sphere. Anthony laughed.

"He knew _exactly_ what he was doing." Anthony chuckled. "I had him immediately up against the nearest building. Or rather we had each other, our hands under each other's toga's."

"Oh, fuck off with your superior timeline shit," Crowley snarled.

"Sorry mate," Anthony muttered against his shoulder. "S'just not really anyone I can talk to. You come along and it's…" Crowley can feel him shrug. "Hhhhhheeeeehhh...Guess it's like finally havin' a proper…"

He can't say _friend_. Not in a Crowley vocabulary, that. Crowley hears it anyway and is predictably annoyed. They weren’t friends. They were clones, and Crowley wasn’t even the best one.

" _Touch starved_ ," he mocks, grasping at anything to change the conversation away from Aziraphale. "S'not even a real thing, is it?”

"Oh no?," Anthony snickered mischievously. "Care to place a wager on that?"

Crowley swallowed. "Not really."

"Sssmart choice," Anthony whispered, trailing a finger lightly over Crowley's shoulder. It wasn't nearly as sensitive as the other spots but still felt bloody amazing. He tucked his nose against the pillow to hide his expression as he chewed his lip. Touch starved. Great. He’d have to be _real_ careful about that.

"Um...so… nape, elbow, anything else I should know?"

"Oh shit yes," Anthony smiled, his lips grazing across Crowley's shoulder, causing a ripple of gooseflesh. The redhead gasped, hips twitching back. "Course then I'd be in danger of doing 'something weird'."

"Shit," Crowley groaned. His body was aching for more. He needed to know. "Damnit. Show me _everything_ , fuck!"

"Right. Yeah." Anthony gave his shoulder a light nudge. "Roll over.” 

Crowley rolled onto his stomach, tucking his hands under his pillow and shivered in anticipation as Anthony drew the blankets away from his bare back. He started a little when he felt the first kiss land on his shoulder blade, and then another on his lower back. He gasped lightly, trying not to press his hips into the bed but it did feel good. 

“The trouble... with being... a demon,” Anthony was saying, pausing every now and then to kiss another part of Crowley’s back. “Is that violence is in our marrow…” another kiss, just above the waistband of his thin trousers, then Anthony licked a wet trail up Crowley’s spine, making him moan softly. “And maybe it’s messed up that we crave it, but we were never really wired right from the beginning, were we?” he whispered, before sucking a wet kiss against Crowley’s neck. 

“No appetite for inflicting pain…” he placed his warm hand between Crowley’s shoulders blades and Crowley tried to arch up like a cat against his palm. “Still crave violence all the same,” Anthony murmured, and pressed his hand down hard, pinning Crowley against the mattress. Crowley instinctively struggled against the pressure. He gritted his teeth to keep from moaning embarrassingly as he wings nearly unfurled against the hot press on his spine.

“Feel that?” Anthony rasped, kissing his neck again. “The wildness, the desire to fight? Are you _afraid_ though?”

“No,” Crowley gasped. He wasn’t the slightest bit afraid. He was _excited_ . He wanted to fight, to struggle, to bend and be bent. Violence had always made him afraid to the point where he was generally uncomfortable with conflict of any kind. He went out of his way to lavish gifts on those close to him, or avoid those he couldn’t charm. He wasn’t a fighter. Anthony was right though. He _did_ want the violence. He just didn’t want the _risk_!

“Hhhhk… How much…?” he began...but he didn’t know how to ask. How do you ask someone what your own limits are, even if that person is your clone? Anthony had lived a different life than he had. He’d had safety. Crowley had never known that.

“Take a breath,” Anthony told him, easing the pressure off his back. “I’ll show you. You just gotta know you’re safe, okay?”

“Erm…” Crowley answered because that sounded suspicious as all — _OH HELL!_ — Anthony put his mouth to the base of Crowley’s neck and bit him hard! Sharp teeth sank into his flesh and gripped into the muscle above his spine and Crowley shouted in pain and anger but mostly in hot pleasure as he thrashed and fucked the bed wildly, completely out of his own control. Anthony pinned him down again, straddling his hips as he took his mouth away, licking the wound and keeping Crowley immobilized in case the redhead reeled around to smack him A theoretical possibility. In actuality though, Crowley was desperately trying to keep from coming and had no real desire to make any sudden moves.

“All right?” Anthony asked, easing back slowly. 

“That...was….”

“Roll over.”

“Nggg…” Crowley shook his head emphatically. “Bad idea that. Don’t think you factored my lack of sexual outlets into your little demonstration and I’m kinda in a bad way at the moment.”

“Figured,” Anthony, smirked. “I’m offering to help you out with that.”

Crowley rolled over and Anthony immediately kissed him hard, all clacking teeth and warring tongues. Crowley made a high desperate sound and Anthony tore himself away, to look down at him. The dark-haired demon’s eyes were shining with happy excitement, the slitted pupils were so widely blown they were almost round, and Crowley was surprised to find they weren’t completely hideous when they looked like that. 

_Promising._

“Wanna taste you,” Anthony gasped, licking his lips. “Can I? I wanna know…”

_Know if we taste the same_. 

“Won’t take long,” Crowley warned him, as an answer and Anthony groaned as he slithered down Crowley’s body, yanking the satin bottoms down thin hips and freeing his leaking erection. Crowley immediately threaded his fingers into smooth black hair, desperate for some vestige of control. Anthony flicked his lust dark eyes up Crowley’s body and licked a long broad stroke up his twitching cock. Crowley grunted eagerly and tugged Anthony’s hair, watching the golden eyes darken further until they were shining copper. The red tongue darted out again to lick his smirking lips. He winked and then got to work.

The blow job was _perfect_ . It wasn’t surprising that a Crowley would know exactly how to suck another Crowley’s cock, but experiencing it in practice was a whole _thing_. Anthony took him in deep and swallowed hard around the tip as it lodged in his throat. Crowley threw his head back and moaned, mouth open wide to gasp in a quick breath before moaning again. A slick tongue played with his foreskin, slipped along his weeping slit before massaging the heavy vein under his shaft. A sharp knuckle kneaded into his perineum before long fingers curled around his bollocks, rolling them into a warm palm. It kinda made him wish he wasn’t already so close. He came shouting colourful expletives, fucking deep into a throat with zero gag reflex, against a jaw capable of unhinging.

He gasped in a grateful breath and heard Anthony moan against his thigh. The dark-haired demon’s wrist was a blur under the waistband of his tartan bottoms. He was still licking the skin of Crowley’s thigh as he worked himself closer. Crowley grabbed a handful of his hair again and drew his head back sharply. Anthony growled, choked and came with a sharp hiss.

“Ssshhhiiiiit…” Crowley groaned, shaking his head at the two of them. “Had no idea I was this fucking horny,” he laughed. 

“All the time, sorry,” Anthony sighed, cleaning himself up with a snap. “I remember what it was like though, when I couldn’t just—” he cut himself off before mentioning the angel again, but Crowley heard it anyway. “Not like it’s easy to really let loose with a human, is it?” he sympathized.

“No,” Crowley agreed. “Might hurt ‘em. Or go snakey and break their brains.” Crowley hadn’t had any _other_ offers though, so humans were his only outlet when the itch got bad enough. He managed to keep those instances down to few and far between though.

And now here he was, coming twice within 24 hours with the first willing supernatural partner he’d met. And he didn’t want to stop.

“Thanks for the…” he motioned between Anthony and his flagging cock. “Much easier to think now.”

“Least I can do,” Anthony heaved himself back up to sit beside Crowley, grinning. “I mean, I’m going to get to fuck you blind tomorrow, so best to get you good and relaxed first.”

“ _When_ exactly was this decided,” Crowley asked half-heartedly, because he was _definitely_ interested.

“Earlier at the shop when we agreed we’d fight over who would top,” Anthony smirked.

“ _You_ agreed,” Crowley corrected, sporting an identical smirk.

“Then _you_ agreed _again_ tonight when you asked me to show you everything.” Anthony volleyed back, smug. Crowley swallowed and shrugged. 

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Obviously it's only if you bloody _want_. Could happily show you what you wanna know by having you watch Zira bugger me into the headboard if you’d rather. Or we can forget the whole thing. I won’t have you treating us like predators because you can't decide what you want.”

“Right, All right,” Crowley placated. “M'not unwilling, okay? Just overwhelmed. You come on bloody strong!”

“Mmn,” Anthony shrugged this time. “Yeah, well... Keep forgetting you don’t have the same level of comfort with all this.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while. 

“Look, I’ll be a perfect gentleman for now on, if you want,” Anthony said finally. “We’ll just focus on the circle and getting your angel here. How’s that sound?”

It sounded boring and full of missed opportunity to learn some valuable secrets about himself.

“Meh. I thought part of the point of all this was for me to be...ready when Aziraphale arrived."

Anthony sighed. “Dunno exactly how to do _that_. You’ve got it in your head that an angel can’t love a demon. I don’t know how to help you with that.”

“Then what use are you?” Crowley smirked.

“The _o_ _t_ _her part_ ,” Anthony gave him a mock glare. “The part where you forgot that being a demon isn’t the same as being evil—"

“Literally is, though,” Crowley interrupted.

“ — and have been sulking for Hell knows how long punishing yourself for it,” Anthony finished, ignoring him. “You need to start looking after yourself and have some fun like a proper demon. You’re no good to Aziraphale as a mopey, defeatist, wet blanket. At the very least it’s gonna make you a terrible lay.”

“Hfffff, fuck you,” Crowley chuckled. 

“Hoohoo! S’what I’ve been doing,” Anthony growled playfully. “At the risk of _going too fast for you,_ though, which brings me back to what I was sayin’. I’ll play nice if that's what you want.”

“I want what you have,” Crowley grumbled, honestly. “But it isn’t going to happen. So, in the interests of being a _proper demon_ , I want every scrap of carnal pleasure I can get before I go back to _my_ Earth and have to behave myself while the angel moans orgasmically around his bloody fork.”

“You understand what you’re signing up for, Red?” Anthony’s pupils were wide and dark again. 

“Getting the idea, yeah,” Crowley nodded, grinning. “Might still faint from it though. Out of practice, as I am.”

“Yeah, well. You can say no whenever you want.”

“I will. When I want.” Crowley promised. 

“Aaaaand just to warn you… Zira’s gonna turn it into some lesson or shit,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “Everything’s an act of love with him. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Right…” Crowley swallowed. “The angel will be there…”

“Only if you want,” Anthony assured him.

“Oh, I _want!_ ” Crowley growled. “I’ve _wanted_ since I laid eyes on him. I know he’s not _my_ angel, and he’ll _never_ be. It’s not the same, but it is sooo fucking close…”

“And he wants you…” Anthony nodded in understanding. “Must be a pretty big blow to your cognitive bias that an angel can’t want a demon.”

Crowley had been trying not to think about that. It hurt his brain too much. He didn’t know why this Aziraphale wanted to fuck him, only that this Aziraphale apparently wanted to fuck him. 

An _angel_ wanted him. A version of _Aziraphale_ wanted him. 

Yeah, his cognitive bias was finding that information particularly chewy.

"S’not me he wants though, issit? M’just you with red hair," he argued because that at least made sense. Zira barely knew anything about him. "He doesn't _know_ me. I could be a child killer, or dress up like a clown on holidays."

" _No_ version of me would do _either_ of those things," Anthony snorted, which was a fair point. "And yeah, S’not like Zira or I are suggesting letting you into our marriage, you idiot. The plan is to get you back with _your_ angel where you belong."

"Right." Crowley felt sheepish. "Heh. Back to my world, at least. No reason to put _that_ kind of responsibility on you two." He smiled crookedly but Anthony didn't return his smile.

"Zira is pretty insistent, and so am I," he said seriously. "The protection you need comes from your bond with Aziraphale. Period. You need to get on the same page, red."

"Mnnmmeugh… You can't force people to fall in love," Crowley grumbled. He knew he was being petulant but couldn't help himself.

"Can you force someone to stop being a bleeding idiot?" Anthony growled back. They looked at each other and frowned. They both knew that in their case the answer was a resounding ' _no.'_

Anthony shifted on the bed to look up at the ceiling. Crowley did the same, feeling like utter shit.

"Zira's closed up the shop for a few days," Anthony said. "He's probably going to be working on this all night. He might have an actual plan by morning. You should get some sleep."

"Sleep. Yep," Crowley sighed. "That's what I'll do then."

Anthony rolled off the bed and left the room. Crowley pulled his pyjama bottoms back over his hips and winced when the motion pressed his pillow into the bite over his spine. His cock took an interest in the sensation.

"Fuckin' behave," Crowley growled at his insolent effort, before healing the bite and miracling the drops of blood off the pillow case.

"Getting off on violence," he grumbled at himself. "That's just bloody perfect. How's Aziraphale ever going to accept _that?_ "

He couldn’t possibly. He’d be kind about it, all gentle concern, but he’d think Crowley was sick.

Maybe he _was_ sick. Didn’t mean the angel had to know that though. He could hide it away, just another dark secret. If he could do that then maybe there was a chance to fix things.

He started trying to imagine different relationships with the Angel should he ever get back home.

There was friendship like the one they'd had all year: 

_Getting drunk in the backroom of the shop. Sharing drinks and stories and jokes._ _Lunch dates and walks in the park, bickering and laughing, simply enjoying each other’s company._

It was definitely doable and better than no relationship at all, but this whole _husbands_ revelation soured Crowley on the "just friends" prospect. He had always craved more, and after seeing it with his own eyes, it would be so much harder to keep himself in check.

_If_ the husbands were right, (they weren't but Crowley was willing to entertain the hypothetical.) and Aziraphale wanted more too...that had potential. He probably wouldn’t be interested in rolling around in the sheets, but Crowley could imagine the angel being… affectionate. Crowley hadn’t really considered allowing himself to be hugged, or ... yuck... _cuddled_. But if it was Aziraphale…

He tried to picture affectionate Aziraphale:

_He imagined himself sitting on that hideous sofa in the backroom, scrolling through his cellular, and Aziraphale joining him. He pictured the angel wrapping his strong arms around him, pulling him against that soft waistcoat, kissing the top of his head. Maybe Crowley could fall asleep on his lap while the angel read, his hand returning to rest on Crowley’s hip between flipping pages._

That would be all right. 

_Maybe he’d stroke his back lightly, play with his hair. Maybe his fingers would scratch just so against that spot above his nape, or run along the inside of his elbow. He’d hiss in mortification, his pelvis jumping, prick hardening in his jeans. Aziraphale would be horrified, embarrassed. He’d keep a safe distance from then on._

Damn it. Cuddling was out. Stupid touch starved stupid body. 

“Fuck you, Crowley,” he grumbled up at the ceiling, but he wasn’t sure if he was cursing Anthony or himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. He needed to make a decision. He needed to be honest with himself about what he wanted and what his priorities were. 

  1. Remain in Aziraphale’s orbit, as close as the angel will allow.
  2. Touch. Affection of some kind, if he could find a safe balance that didn’t embarrass him.
  3. Sex. Please.
  4. Get back to his proper world. (This wasn’t much of a priority for Crowley so long as he had at least 1 achieved he didn’t care what world he was in.)



1 and 2 were possible (even probable assuming Aziraphale could be brought here), which was good news as they were the biggest priority. 4 remained to be seen and he might have a better idea of that in the morning.

As for 3… Well, he’d just have to make the most of the time he had before achieving number 1.

There. A plan. 

Well...plan adjacent. 

More of a method, really. 

A perspective? 

Whatever. It was a start. 

  
  
  



	4. There was an Antichrist and everything!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in the TV World bookshop...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Az is doing just fine, kids.
> 
> Please forgive any typos. Like our angel, I too have been indulging in a bit too much, if much cheaper, wine.
> 
> Please enjoy some dumb smut.

Aziraphale had been deep in thought when the phone rang. He had a great deal on his mind today and the more he tried to reason it out the more wretched he felt.

The day had started off well enough. Crowley had slept the whole night on his sofa and Aziraphale had been reading quietly if occasionally sneaking the odd admiring peak at the demon's long neck limbs draped so gracefully. His body seemed to flow over the confines of the sofa in such a way that begged to be scooped up and carried to a more comfortable surface, or be cuddled on a warm lap, perhaps.

They had spent many nights like this and it never caused any upset, but last night Aziraphale learned two new facts about the demon that rather changed some things.

  1. Crowley occasionally spoke in his sleep.
  2. Crowley occasionally dreamed about Aziraphale.



And those facts alone  _ still  _ might not have caused any upset (and indeed may have been rather entertaining) however this, like so many things, was dependent on context.

Aziraphale's prior interactions with Crowley had left him unprepared for a context that included the demon sighing deliciously in his sleep before murmuring "love you, Angel."

So! There had been a great deal on Aziraphale's mind  _ before  _ today, technically, but this morning was when the upset had occurred so he decided his troubles started there.

He'd been musing on  _ "love you, Angel”  _ for several hours by then, multiple lifetimes of looks, gifts, favours, arguments, now taking on new vibrant new colours.

There had been all those unexplained flashes of love he'd felt over the centuries as well. Crowley? And here Aziraphale had been drowning in his own feelings of unrequited love all this time! The nerve!

It  _ could  _ have just been a dream. It  _ might _ have been, except there had been that flash of love coming again, directly from this unholy and beautiful source.

This was a matter that was going to require a very careful and thoughtful approach. Aziraphale planned on wooing the demon gently. And yet… When he went into the backroom to ask Crowley if he wanted tea, he instead grabbed the surprised demon by his waistcoat and snogged his face off!

Honestly! Like the worst sort of trollop! He was so embarrassed.

Mind you, the way Crowley had leaned into him, parting his lips with that clever forked tongue took some of the sting out of his shame. As did the way Crowley moaned so prettily into his mouth when Aziraphale pushed him against the wall and pressed his thigh between Crowley's legs and against his rather firm— well…

_ "Shit! Sorry! M'sorry Angel!" Crowley cried in alarm, pushing Aziraphale away as if the whole exercise hadn't been the angel's idea. 'I shouldn't have… I know you can't...fuck! Sorry!" _

After Crowley had fled, Aziraphale remained frozen on the spot, contemplating the fleeting sensation of that hardness against his leg, the pain and fear he'd seen on Crowley's face, the judgement and rejection the demon must have expected.

It was his own fault. Not just the kiss, but the fear too. He had rejected Crowley so many times. He had felt like such a heel about how he had treated the dear, but  _ now… _ To know that Crowley had  _ loved _ him as he said those things. How his heart must have broken!

Aziraphale closed his eyes and prayed. Not to God, mind you,  _ he might never pray to Her again. _ He prayed to Crowley. He imagined his love as a great holy beast capable of sheltering his dearest demon from even the worst ugliness his mind could summon to harm himself. 

For there had always been something broken and jagged about Crowley. Every time Aziraphale had tried to smooth his edges he had been met with vicious rebuke. Hell would be very unkind to the Serpent if their Arrangement were to be discovered, so Aziraphale chalked the stroppiness to fear and self-preservation. But no one could punish Crowley more severely than the demon seemed to punish himself. The terrible things Aziraphale had said over the centuries in his attempt to distance himself from Crowley (and his feelings for Crowley) were only ever more polite echoes of the very things the demon said of himself.

A demon not worth the angel’s salt. A lie only Crowley believed.

He wasn’t surprised that Crowley had fallen over himself to escape Aziraphale’s kisses, shouting apologies the whole time.  _ 'I shouldn't have… I know you can't...fuck! Sorry!" _

Some base, taunting part of Aziraphale’s mind, parsed it differently. “He thinks I can’t... fuck?” he giggled to himself. Obviously not what the demon had meant, but… well, there had been that hardness pressed to Aziraphale’s leg and the demon had run off before he had the chance to notice the angel was in a similar state. Because Aziraphale absolutely  _ could  _ fuck, and now that he understood that Crowley might desire to…

The whole running away bit had put an halt to that. What was certain to be a subsequent denial of his worthiness and insistence that Aziraphale wasn’t to be  _ ‘sullied’  _ or some nonsense, was going to be exhausting and infuriating.

It had been a very long 6,000 years of dancing around this point. He’d kept himself properly well mannered the whole time (a grand testament to his self contro,l by the way. The demon was Temptation on a Stick!) because Heaven wouldn’t have it any other way, and because he believed the demon to be uninterested.

Now that both excuses had been eliminated, Aziraphale very much wanted to get on with things. Romantic things, Intimate things,  _ Marquis de Sade things _ …

He was being horrible, of course, for sulking over having to wait. Crowley was hurting. He had been hurting for eons, a cycle of abuse turned inward and as clever as the dear boy was, he was never going to find his way out of his self-hatred alone. And as clever as Aziraphale was, he wasn’t going to be able to reach Crowley alone.

It was a predicament, because they only had themselves for council now.

Aziraphale had been brooding over this all day, which is why he was particularly annoyed when he turned on the telly and saw Crowley on the evening news broadcast. During a segment titled  _ Bedlam at the Aquarium _ , security footage of the chaos also happened to show the demon casually strolling among the panicked patrons with a dark haired man in a suit and similar dark glasses. They were both smirking too. They were on the screen for barely a moment, but Aziraphale knew that smirk down to his bones.

He had no idea who that other gentleman was, although the glasses suggested he was some sort of protege or the like. Crowley certainly had never mentioned anything of the sort though, and surely it would have come up at some point over the last year. Crowley was  _ always _ around. When had he found the time to form a relationship with someone else? Who was he? What was he to Crowley?  _ How dare _ the demon move on without him when Aziraphale hadn’t even had the opportunity to eventually come around to confessing his feelings in due time! 

And this thought, as well as all the logistical problems with it, tumbled around in Aziraphale’s mind like socks in a dryer for several hours until the phone rang. Aziraphale was quite done with considering other people’s needs at the moment so he decided to let the call go to the answerphone. Yet the bloody thing continued to ring most annoyingly. 

Aziraphale ws also quite drunk off his third bottle of Beaujolais, which is how he went so long before realizing the ringing was coming from his own jacket pocket and not the old telephone on the counter.

With the bleary confusion of the truly intoxicated, Aziraphale pulled the cellular out of his pocket and stared at it. It had a hard plastic case with a fetching tartan pattern and the screen glowed with his name and a red and green button. The ringing continued while he blinked at it. 

He was quite sure he hadn’t ever owned a cellular telephone, and equally certain there hadn’t been one in his pocket before he started drinking. He cast a suspicious (if sozzled) look at the empty wine bottles on his table.

_ Answer the telephone please, _ the screen now read. 

This must be Crowley’s doing. This had him written all over it, really. Why should Aziraphale answer the phone. If he and his handsome dark protage had gotten themselves in a spot of trouble then they would bloody well rot. 

_ Why are you not answering? _ The screen read now. Aziraphale snorted loudly and took another drink. 

_ It’s the green button. _ The screen told him, helpfully. Aziraphale was drunk but he had figured that much out on his own, thank you very much. He tapped the green button and yelled as much into the phone.

“Wonderful. Well done, you,” a dry plummy voice replied. “Been drinking tonight, have we?”

Aziraphale scowled at the phone, confused. Crowley mocked Aziraphale’s voice often, but this didn’t sound like Crowley. Still, it  _ had  _ to be Crowley. Who else could it be?

“Crowley?”

“I’m afraid not, dear,” the voice sighed. “But he is quite safe, I assure you. Well… mostly safe, I should think. A little bruised perhaps.”

Aziraphale tried to demand clarification but belched loudly instead. “Goodness. So sorry,” he gasped. “A moment please!” He closed his eyes and sobered himself up. “Apologies for my rudeness. Did you say Crowley was...mostly safe? Where is he, and who are you?”

“Quite, Er...Well the answer to both your questions is somewhat tricky,” the voice sighed. “I am— Heaven’s this is awkward— I am Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and… as I understand it… your double from another universe.”

Aziraphale blinked, took the phone away from his ear to look at it, and then gave the wine bottles another suspicious look.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, returning to the call. “I’m afraid I might still be a bit drunk.”

“Well, before we get too far into the oddities of all this, I do want to assure you that your Crowley is with us, and safe as he can possibly be at the moment.”

“ _ My _ Crowley?” Aziraphale blushed. “He isn’t  _ my  _ Crowley. He isn’t  _ my anything _ ! I’ve no say over where he goes or who he spends his time with… but… No, sorry. That’s unimportant. Did you just try to tell me you’re  _ my double? _ ”

“Yes,” the voice continued, “And you will no doubt want proof of that although all of this would go much more smoothly if you could bring yourself to just accept this part so we could move on to how we get your Crowley home.”

“Perhaps I don’t  _ want  _ my Crowley home,” Aziraphale sniffed, deciding this was some sort of prank on the demon’s part and vowing not to make it easy. “Perhaps he hurt me rather bady when he ran off on me this morning. Perhaps the shop is much quieter and more organized without him here.”

“Well...I promise you  _ my  _ shop isn’t,” the voice seemed a little flustered. “From the sounds of it, I suspect my Crowley would be more than happy to keep yours, but I don’t believe you’d wish that.”

“This is ridiculous,” Aziraphale snapped. “Who is this? How did you slip this telephone into my pocket?”

“I slipped it into mine. It’s a whole celestial wormhole thing. I’m actually a little surprised it worked on the first try! I’m really quite chuffed.”

All right. Whoever this really was, they were good.

“Where is Crowley?” he demanded, coming around to the idea that if this weren’t a prank, the demon might be in actual trouble.

“As I’ve mentioned already, he is in my shop. In my universe,” the voice reiterated rather churlishly. “And I need you to kindly summon him back before my backroom is completely destroyed. Can you do that?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Can I summon Crowley? I… I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

The other Aziraphale (as Aziraphale was starting to come around to the idea he might indeed be another Aziraphale) clucked his tongue in thought and hummed. “The thing is...I believe you may have summoned my Crowley this morning,” the voice told him. “Crowley and I were having a debate and he had been about to say something unforgivable about my scones, and then he was being pulled away to your universe where he came to be in front of your Crowley’s flat.”

Aziraphale listened with rapt fascination as his double (his double!) continued to explain how he had summoned his husband (his husband!!) back and Crowley had been forcefully brought along against his will.

“I am sorry about that,” the other angel huffed. “Crowley is impetuous at the best of times but he honestly had good intentions this time. He’s worried yours is about to make a rather big mess of your relationship.”

“Er...impetuous, yes...Crowley’s always been a bit — I’m sorry, but you said ‘ _ husband’ _ ? You and Crowley are married?” Aziraphale felt a bit faint.

“So...it’s true then, that you two aren’t… a couple?” the other angel asked, sounding embarrassed, as if Aziraphale had failed some sort of simple test.

“We’ve been a bit busy saving the world, you know,” Aziraphale snapped. “It almost ended, in fact. There was an Antichrist and everything!”

“Yes, same with us, but that wa _ s thirty years ago! _ ” the other Aziraphale scoffed. “What have you been doing in all that time?! You’ve honestly just been drinking wine and dining at the Ritz? You never thought to bed him  _ once _ ? Have you not seen  _ his red hair? _ ”

“It was last year!” Aziraphale squeaked and the line went silent. “And and and… anyway, I couldn’t have…  _ ‘bed him _ ’, Good Lord! I wouldn’t think of it. Why why why… for one thing he’s a demon… And also he’s never said he would be interested!”

“Seriously?”

Aziraphale pressed his knuckles to his mouth to silence himself. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest and he didn’t approve of how quickly this stranger was cutting to the heart of him. 

“He thinks it’s his fault, you know,” the other angel told him gently. “Of course you know. You’re the one who knows Crowley best. Better than he knows himself. You’re his angel. You’ve been his only friend throughout the ages and you know, more than anyone, that when something goes wrong, Crowley will blame himself.”

The air went out of his lungs, and Aziraphale hung his head in shame. “How do I bring him home?”

“I’m no longer sure you can,” the voice told him sadly. “Not yet. The only reason I could move Crowley as easily as I could was because we’ve been together for so long. We’ve shared so much of ourselves. I could find him anywhere.”

“After only thirty years?” Aziraphale was skeptical.

“Oh! We’ve been married for thirty years, dear boy,” the other angel corrected him, but he continued in a much more suggestive tone, “but we have been taking our pleasure of each other for thousands of years.”

“Oh… er… Oh?” Aziraphale felt very flushed at the moment. “You’re joking.”

“Do you recall walking home from supping on Patronus’ oysters with him that night in Rome,” the voice was soft but suggested a catlike smile. “Both giddy with ale and brine and you were suddenly wanting to coax him into the bathhouse in hopes he would seduce you.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard. That was a secret. One he had done his best to forget about and certainly hadn’t told a soul. Not even Crowley!

“I… I didn’t… hope for anything of the sort!” he denied. “I’m an angel!”

“Hmmm,” the voice didn’t sound convinced. “Well,  _ this  _ angel, this  _ Principality _ , this  _ Aziraphale, _ was incredibly randy that particular night and very much wanted to be seduced. So I mentioned the bathhouses and guess what happened?”

Aziraphale swallowed again and adjusted himself in his seat. “He… made a joke about you wanting his… his... And then you properly changed your mind and laughed and went your separate ways?” 

That was certainly what happened for him!

“He did make a joke about me wanting his cock,” the other Aziraphale agreed. “So I took it.”

“You… I’m sorry, you…” Aziraphale blinked, cleared his throat, blinked again, and wondered why he was sweating so much. “You… took... it?”

“I slid my hand up his thigh, right through that rich black toga of his and ran my hand over the hard length of him,” the plummy voice had become sultry and decadent, and Aziraphale felt himself melt into the sofa a little. “I remember being so pleased to find him hard and ready for me. And the length of it… I wanted to get my mouth on him so badly, but I settled for his lips first and that turned out to be a perfect idea because the things that demon did with his tongue against mine…”

Aziraphale huffed out a heavy breath and nearly moaned. 

“Tell me more,” he begged. He needed to know.

“He kissed me until I forgot how to breath, walked me back until I was pressed against the building behind me. We fumbled at each other desperately and he made the sweetest sounds against my throat.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale panted, pressing a palm against his erection in hopes of easing some of the pressure.

"I felt his hand on my hip, then the other, those long fingers of his pressing into my skin through the thin fabric and it felt better than good. It felt  _ right _ . I had half expected God to cast me out the second my lips touched the demon's but nothing bad happened. In fact, it only got better…"

"Did it?" Aziraphale bit his lip to keep from groaning. He should stop the conversation, change the subject, ring off the bloody call,  _ anything  _ except take his erection out of his pants, and yet…

"Kissing Crowley was everything I hoped it would be. Soft and hard all at once. That tongue, those teasing lips. Oh, the things they did to me, sliding over my skin as he held me against that wall. His fingers moved closer, gripped my arse and it felt better than Heaven. That isn’t hyperbole. I had never felt so accepted, so  _ wanted _ .”

Aziraphale moaned, gripping his weeping erection in his firm hand before he came to his senses and then shame hit him, hard and cold.

"Oh no, oh dear, I... I'm sorry!" Aziraphale cried. How horrible. He had been touching himself while… "I'm sorry, I should go or…" except he  _ couldn't _ go. Crowley was still trapped in another universe and — 

"I was doing it too," the voice told him gently. "Don't stop on my account. It feels good, doesn't it? And you've already missed out on so much."

"I… yes, but… it's rather disrespectful, not to mention, immoral, to do... _ that _ without the other person's knowledge and consent," Aziraphale argued.

"That's true… " the voice faltered. "Then  _ I _ am the one who must apologize, because I very much knew what you were doing and was more than fine with that knowledge, but evidently I neglected to make sure you were willing to participate in… whatever we were doing."

"Whatever we were doing," Aziraphale echoed, looking down at his erection, still hard and aching for relief.

"Shall we go back to discussing getting your demon back or… I don't wish to presume...but if you were still curious about…"

"I am!" Aziraphale winced at how eager he sounded. " I mean, of course I want my… my friend back where he belongs. And I can only assume he is driving  _ your _ Crowley spare."

"Well there certainly is a lot of… profanity and shouting," the other angel agreed. "And my books don't seem to be being respected... just a moment please —  _ CROWLEY _ ! — forgive me, dear. Where were we?"

"Um… a… against the wall, with... with his...hands on your backside and…" 

"Mmmm yes," the voice relaxed back into its sultry tone. "His hands are surprisingly gentle, you know. All of him is, actually. He prefers a strong hand, likes to be tossed about, a little rough and tumble from time to time. Mostly he is gentle and thorough and heartbreakingly sweet.

"He was gentle that night. Maybe he worried that I would be nervous but I wasn't. I wanted him desperately. I couldn't get my hands on him fast enough. I pulled his toga up and took his velvety length in both my hands and it felt better than any holy sword, I can promise you. And the sound he made!"

Aziraphale gasped, stroking himself slowly.

"His moans are like silk. I knew I must have been moaning and gasping with him because his hands were sliding up and down my effort and I had never once been harder in my long life, but  _ his _ sweet sounds! I couldn't imagine anything sounding better to my ears than Crowley mewling helplessly against my skin from the pleasure I was giving him."

"Oh," Aziraphale sighed, sliding his eyes closed and tightening the grip on his strokes. "Oh oh oh yes."

He gasped loudly as his hips gave an involuntary twitch, pleasure climbing up his spine with every touch, every beautiful word. The other angel gasped too, a quiet moan.

"I could smell the salt of him, rubbing it into my palms as I brought him closer and I remember once again fantasizing about how it would taste on my tongue and then the sneaky snake started  _ talking _ ! Oh, he said the most delightfully filthy things, breath coming fast, voice cracking as he neared his limit but still that wicked tongue had to say its peace. I could have blushed from it all, it was hardly poetry, and yet I— oh! I loved it! I was helpless against the boldness of his words and I spilled for him, cried his name, and in my ecstasy quite forgot to be gentle and — Ah!"

Aziraphale moaned along with his double, so close to his own release. 

"Please… please…" he begged quietly, palming his bollocks before returning to his firm, quick strokes.

"Ahh…" the other angel sighed, cleared his throat. "Yes. Well… suffice to say, Crowley had me quite beyond my wits and in my release my grip upon him tightened and I found myself thrusting against him as well and none too gently. That was when I learned how he loved a firm hand because my dear demon shook apart beautifully before me."

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasped. "Please."

"Well, who would I be if I didn't test this theory," the other angel purred and Aziraphale moaned.

"I all but dragged that demon to my loggings, bent him over my cot and ran my tongue over every inch of him until he begged me to fuck him. Instead I took him into my mouth and sucked him down my throat like I had those lovely oysters. I pulled such moans and pretty blasphemy from his lips and then he screamed for me when he came. He tasted of brine and rain, like a storm out at sea and I loved it and I loved him and I really loved making him scream the word  _ "Angel" _ .

Aziraphale sucked in a ragged breath, his eyes fluttering shut as his stomach dropped. The pleasure crashed over his head and he spilled himself over his hand with a strangled moan.

He let his head fall against the back of the sofa as he caught his breath.

"Please don't tell Crowley," he whispered into the telephone.

"I believe he has his own problems," the other angel chuckled, “but this can remain between us, certainly. Shall we discuss our options now?"

Aziraphale snapped himself clean and stood on shaky legs. He desperately needed a cup of tea.

"Yes, my dear," he answered, smiling a bit to himself. "I’m beginning to think we have a  _ lot  _ to discuss."

  
  
  



	5. A Kindred Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aziraphales basically have a Zoom call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I need to make this explicitly clear but just in case *gets out her megaphone* The author is not an expert on BDSM! This story should not be used as a flipping manual for safe play! I can almost guarantee it is NOT safe play! Two of the characters involved are DEMONS and all four of them are IDIOTS. *Puts megaphone away.
> 
> Seriously though. Everything is meant to be completely consensual and fun, if not particularly always safe, and hopefully I communicate that in the the writing, but sometimes I'm sloppy and what is in my head doesn't translate in text so I apologize in advance if that happens and please let me know if something seems icky so I can edit it. That said. THIS IS A CRACK FIC THAT HAS GOTTEN OUT OF CONTROL AND SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY IN ANY WAY. 
> 
> Ahem. Thank you. Please enjoy this silly chapter.

The cellular telephone in his pocket made a disconcerting chirping sound out of the blue and Aziraphale startled, sloshing his coffee over his hand.

"Bugger," he swore, sucking the burn from his finger before taking the enchanted rectangle out of his jacket.

It had been a long night of fretting and wondering, interspersed with bouts of panic, elation, and curiosity. (The curiosity was of several natures, a few of which could hardly be considered 'virtuous', which only made Aziraphale _more_ curious still.)

He didn't need, or even particularly enjoy, sleep, so he never bemoaned missing it but there was an aesthetic he enjoyed about having a large cup of fresh ground coffee after a long night.

And the rectangle was ruining the mood.

"All right?" he asked. There was no response. The screen was blank. Aziraphale immediately began to fret. Had something happened to Crowley? Had whatever allowed his double to contact him somehow dissolved, trapping the demon in another sphere of reality?

Aziraphale might literally expire!

The telephone chirped again and a quick bit of text appeared briefly at the top before vanishing.

_I_ _think it best to meet in such a way as_

Aziraphale tilted his head. The sentence was cut off but didn't seem to indicate a crisis.

Aziraphale picked at the screen but it merely showed a tartan patterned background. 

"This is a text, isn't it?" Aziraphale cottoned on. "How do I open the bloody texter?"

Another message popped up and Aziraphale tapped it out of desperation and that seemed to do the trick. The texts appeared in order.

_I thought we might try a joint projection, if you are willing._

_I think it best if we meet in such a way that we can see each other. It might be more comfortable._

_What do you think of using our signet rings as a link? Do you think it could work?_

"Clever!" Aziraphale exclaimed.

___________

  
  


The angel's stared at each other across the table. The other angel looked a little awe-struck and Aziraphale suspected he was sporting a rather similar expression. They had the very same eyes! And this angel was so smartly dressed, if also quite comfortable looking. His hair wasn’t curly, and was more gold than white, and seemed to be a bit ruffled too, but it was early in the morning and the poor boy did have two Crowleys to contend with, so perhaps it was saying something that he was as kempt as he was.

“This is incredible,” the angel beamed at him. “Oh, I have so many questions for you. I don’t even know where to begin!”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Aziraphale gushed. “This is extraordinary! I can hardly believe this is happening!”

“Well, I suppose we can say that there’s one element of science fiction proven fact,” the angel laughed.

Oh!” You have my laugh!” Aziraphale exclaimed and they laughed together.

And one thing that made this already extraordinary, incredible thing all the more beautifully bizarre, was that it felt so comfortable. Aziraphale looked across the table at a slightly out-of-focus version of himself and recognized the kindred bond immediately. Well… closer than kindred, really, but he wasn’t sure the correct word for this existed.

“I must say, I am very impressed that you managed to summon two Crowleys across universes as you did,” he told his other self. “I can only imagine that summoning a single Crowley from anywhere must be extremely taxing.”

“Summoning him is the easy part,” the angel groaned good-naturedly. “It’s getting him to share the covers or stop dog-earing his books that drives me spare.”

Aziraphale shook his head in amazement. “You _live_ with him,” he breathed. “I honestly can’t imagine it.”

The other Aziraphale (Zira. He mentioned _his_ Crowley called him _Zira_ ) smiled warmly at him. “I suppose that’s only fair. After all, _I_ can’t imagine knowing that delicious creature for so long and not wanting him within reach whenever I wanted him.”

“Good Lord,” Aziraphale blushed and did his best to school his features into an offended moue. “Our Crowleys are clearly very different, that’s all.”

“They really aren’t,” Zira’s eyes widened and his voice went flat. “It’s almost alarming how similar they are. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m as much of a stabilizing influence as I once thought.”

Aziraphale laughed until he realized the implied insult. “Excuse me!” he chided. “I have managed to keep Crowley in check quite well without….without…” He struggled for an appropriate word because what he had been precariously close to saying was the word “sullying”. Without sullying himself. And Aziraphale had only just yesterday been agonizing over Crowley’s hypothetical fear of sullying him.

“I certainly didn’t mean to offend you,” Zira replied lightly. “I fear I phrased that rather poorly. Red is clearly very _good_ . He likely was to begin with, as was mine, but to be able to shake off the lessons of Hell to join forces with an angel to thwart his old masters and save the world…” he smiled. “That wouldn’t have happened without his relationship with you being as strong as it must be. However, I had put stock in it being of our _love_. Our _romance_. We both had access to each other’s strength. We depended on each other.”

There was a beat as Zira’s words sank in and the angel shrugged. “I’m impressed that you two managed it all without those privileges. Truly.”

“We did count on each other,” Aziraphale insisted. “We may not have been intimate, but we are very good friends!”

“Good, good,” Zira nodded. “And that’s why you kissed him, is it?”

“Now, look!” Aziraphale scolded. “He started it.”

Zira gave him a surprised smile. “Did he? He didn’t tell us that. Sneaky demon.”

“Well…” Crowley _had_ been asleep when he started it so that might be why he remembered it differently. “He told me he loved me.”

Zira gasped, delighted. “Crowley told me he was _sure_ Red was going to make a mess of things. That he was pulling strange at your kiss because of his issues with his own demonic nature. I didn’t realize he confessed his feelings to you!”

“Well…” Aziraphale could feel himself blushing and across the table Zira’s expression melted from glee to suspicion.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded.

“He was asleep,” Aziraphale admitted. “He said it in his sleep.”

Zira had the bad manners to snort. Then he chortled. Then he laughed as Aziraphale folded his arms and sulked.

“All right. Let’s change the subject for a bit, shall we?” he giggled finally. Aziraphale gave a curt nod. Changing the subject was a very sound plan. “Do you have any urgent business in your world in the next month?”

Aziraphale frowned warily. “I can’t say as I do per se…”

“Excellent,” Zira clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward a bit. “Because we have a small problem. You do not have the ability to bring your demon to you.”

Fear bloomed bitterly on Aziraphale’s tongue and he stammered for a moment as a deep cold shivered up his spine. “I should think I must be able to if I summoned _yours_!” he snapped. 

“And what is to keep you from summoning mine again by mistake? Or some other version?” Zira reminded him. They had discussed the dangers the night before. Still, Aziraphale had to at least try.

“I’m proposing I bring you to us,” Zira continued, glancing off to the side for a moment. “I believe I may have found a way to summon you here. You’ll be reunited with Red, and then Crowley and I can teach you both the technique to get you both back home. You’ll likely need to combine your skills for this.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips and considered the angel’s proposal while Zira seemed momentarily distracted by someone joining him in whatever room he was in. The angel looked up, smiling kindly, and wished the person a good morning. There was a heat in the angel’s blue eyes too. Attraction? Lust perhaps?

“Your Crowley?” he asked, curious about what Zira’s demon was like. 

“Yours, actually,” Zira murmured. “Mine is still asleep.”

“Oh,” All at once Aziraphale felt a sense of home-sickness, despite being safely seated in his flat above the shop. “Is he well? I wish I could speak with him.”

_And I wouldn’t mind you explaining that look in your eyes while you gaze at my Crowley._

“Would you like me to relay a message?” Zira asked, his lips twitching up in a catlike smile. 

“Tell him I shall be joining him presently,” Aziraphale huffed. Zira’s grin was so genuinely pleased that much of Aziraphale’s jealousy evaporated. Zira was happily married to his own Crowley, and from the sounds of it, had a very active and satisfying sex life. Aziraphale must have imagined the attraction in his look.

“Your Aziraphale wishes you to know he plans to join us soon,” Zira relayed, looking off to his side.

Aziraphale nearly leaned the opposite way in hopes that somehow he’d get a glimpse of Crowley, but of course, it was no good. Zira's apparition was the only thing he could see of that universe at the moment. The angel smiled at whatever Crowley said. He looked amused. Aziraphale waited with baited breath.

“He’s excited to see you again,” Zira told Aziraphale in a tone that suggested he was heavily paraphrasing. It made Aziraphale very anxious.

“Does he not want to see me?” Aziraphale fretted. “I have said some unforgivable things to him in the past and while I thought perhaps we had moved beyond them I didn’t know how he felt at the time and now he must be so confused and hurt and I only wish— “

“Easy, easy,” Zira cooed, making a calming gesture with his hands. “Of course he wants to see you,” Zira added with emphasis, obviously trying to get a rise out of Crowley. It seemed to work too because the angel’s attention was pulled away again to look off to the side. Whatever Crowley was saying made Zira’s lips press together firmly in a look of determined authority. And that dark heat was back in his eyes.

“You will stop shouting at me immediately,” Zira ordered the invisible Crowley. “Or I will hogtie you and leave you gagged in the corner of the kitchen until my Crowley is ready to deal with you.”

Aziraphale gaped at his soul twin. He had never spoken to Crowley like that before. He’d thought about it, fantasized even, but … _goodness_! What must Crowley have done? Zira was calmly staring to the side (at Crowley) but was the demon yelling profanity at him again? Was he about to attack? Was he storming off?...

Was he _obeying_? Oh, Heaven, if only… Aziraphale was fully hard again at just the thought.

“Make him obey you,” he demanded before he realized what he’d just said.

Zira glanced over the table at him and arched a brow but his eyes snapped back at Crowley again and snapped a firm “Stay put!” in a voice that made Aziraphale swallow hard. A beat passed and the angel growled at Crowley. “Don’t. Move,” before turning his attention back to Aziraphale. 

“What methods may I use?” Zira asked, looking and sounding like he was about to negotiate a contract… which perhaps they were.

“Erm…” Aziraphale thought furiously. He hadn’t intended to ask Zira to… to …

“I’m not sure? Just… I want him to…” Aziraphale sighed and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“I am going to send you a list of books you should read,” Zira smiled, and Aziraphale gave a breathy laugh of gratitude.

“That would be appreciated, however… um… did… Did Crowley… stay?”

“Of course he did,” Zira smiled before looking over toward where Crowley must have been. “He’s being very good for me right now.”

Aziraphale groaned and his hand twitched around his tea cup with the effort to keep from rubbing himself through his trousers.

“I want him to do that for me,” Aziraphale sighed. “Please send that list as soon as possible.”

“It is only part of the equation I’m afraid,” Zira mentioned. “You’ll need to gain confidence, and this one…” that dark hot look was back. “This one desperately needs discipline.”

“What do you suggest?” Aziraphale whispered, cheeks hot. He licked his dry lips and forced himself to breath through his nose to keep from panting. 

“This depends on your comfort level,” Zira continued, still eyeing Crowley. “I don’t want to overstep, although for the sake of honesty I think I should inform you that my husband has been intimate with yours twice now and would rather not stop at least until the agonizing over self pity stops.”

Aziraphale was too shocked to have an opinion about this. He blinked a couple times, then laughed, then scowled, then laughed again. 

“Crowley and... _Crowley!_?”

“Emphatically,” Zira nodded with an amused smile. “I hope that doesn’t upset you,” he sighed, his serious expression again. “I could see how it might be a bit awkward with you stuck where you are for now. It is one of the reasons I’d like to get you here as soon as it is safe to do so. I know if our positions were reversed, I’d be interested to know that the Crowleys were...” he tittered nervously and Aziraphale chewed his lip, feeling simultaneously horrendously jealous of everyone over there, while also sympathetic to how difficult this conversation must be for his double.

“I admit, as much as it surprised me to hear it, I was relieved that you and Red hadn’t become a couple yet. I _do_ still believe you are both absolutely madly in love with each other, but the fact that you still refer to him as a ‘dear friend’ and have said you couldn’t possibly bed him because _he’s a demon_ of all things… well… Crowley’s done nothing wrong here with us, but it does make me feel better about everything all the same.”

_Nothing wrong_ … Something inside Aziraphale chafed at the assertion. However, then he remembered all the times he rejected Crowley. They weren’t a couple. He had no right to be jealous.

And… Well… It _was_ another version of Crowley… and another version of himself. How could he be cross? It was understandably intimate. Even across the table and in another dimension Aziraphale could feel his deep connection to Zira. He trusted him. He _was_ him. Not completely, of course, but… Oh! It made his brain hurt to think about it too much.

“I trust you,” Aziraphale assured his double, rubbing his sore temples. “And I trust Crowley… both of them, I suppose.”

“I’m glad,” Zira smiled. “I feel much the same. I’m so excited to have the chance to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale chuckled, feeling happy butterflies in his stomach. Finally someone to talk to about all the things he’s had to keep to himself for so long. Things he couldn’t even tell Crowley.

Oh! And Crowley had that now too! Although apparently he was able to do other things with his double aside from talking…

Aziraphale bit his lip as his cock twitched at the thought of Crowley moaning against his double’s shoulder while…

“Did you still want me to work with your Crowley for you?” Zira asked, breaking into Aziraphale’s daydream.

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied firmly, surprised by his own sudden confidence. “Assuming Crowley is willing and his rights and feelings are respected. Kindly give him any discipline he needs.”

“It might take quite a bit,” Zira smirked.

“I don’t doubt it will,” Aziraphale smiled, feeling a different kind of butterflies now. “You might have to gag him after all. And get me to your universe as soon as possible, dear, because I want to watch.”

  
  


___________

  
  


Crowley crept down the steps more out of habit, then any real concern. It was far from the first time he had woken up half-naked in a strange bed, but at least this time he remembered how he’d gotten there. However, It was his nature to sneak, and he could hear someone worth sneaking up on. 

Zira was seated at a small kitchen table with a cup of tea, having an extensive and serious conversation with the empty chair opposite him.

“Lost the last of your marbles, have you?” Crowley teased as he entered the kitchen. “Figured that would be an ‘Aziraphale’ trait.”

“Good morning to you too,” Zira smirked back with a smile and a smoldering look. Crowley felt himself flush slightly and quickly busied himself with snooping through their refrigerator.

“Yours, actually,” Zira murmured, seemingly to no one. Crowley peeked over the refrigerator door at the angel and saw he was back to conversing with his invisible friend. That was when Crowley spied the gold ring Aziraphale wore on his pinkie, sitting ominously in the centre of the table. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. Was he… Was Zira speaking to Aziraphale right now?

“Your Aziraphale wishes you to know he plans to join us soon,” Zira told him, looking over his shoulder and confirming Crowley’s suspicions.

“Wot? How?” Crowley felt an intense mixture of excitement and dread. “Is it safe? Does he know what he’s doing? Don’t let him do something totally stupid!”

“He’s excited to see you again,” Zira told Aziraphale, ignoring Crowley’s perfectly reasonable concerns exactly like a bloody _Aziraphale_! Crowley glared at him, but Zira was more interested in comforting his counterpart. Aziraphale must have gone into a flap over something because Zira started making a shushing motion and cooed at the chair opposite him, “Easy, easy. Of course he wants to see you.”

“Oi!” Crowley shouted, finally getting the angel’s sodding attention. “You don’t bloody bring him here if it isn’t safe! If you get my angel discorporated because of your daft mucking about with universes then it will be two dead Aziraphales, understood?!”

Zira pressed his lips together and his eyes were immediately cold as a Scottish winter but Crowley held his ground. At least until Zira opened his mouth.

“You will stop shouting at me immediately,” Zira ordered him. “Or I will hogtie you and leave you gagged in the corner of the kitchen until my Crowley is ready to deal with you.”

Crowley’s face felt hot and his breathing abruptly became laboured. He was once again walking that line between being furious and badly aroused. Damn this place! Zira held his gaze firmly for a moment, but then his blue eyes flicked to the side in surprise at something. Crowley took the opportunity to turn on his heel.

“Stay put!” Zira commanded and against his better judgment Crowley found himself freezing in place. He slowly turned around, feeling abashed and angry about it. Zira’s expression was intensely authoritative and made Crowley’s heart jump. The angel narrowed his eyes and Crowley licked his lips at the growled “Don’t. Move.” 

Then Zira turned back to the invisible Aziraphale and asked something about methods, and a list of books and Crowley was instantly bored. Yup. If he had any lingering doubts about this being a version of Aziraphale they were gone now. No one but the angel could have him go from feeling rampantly horny to bored out of his skull this quickly.

“He’s being very good for me right now,” Zira said, shooting Crowley a lusty smirk and just like that Crowley was back to horny again. Oh how the pendulum swings! He tried his best to scowl impatiently and crossed his arms, but Zira had gone back to ignoring him. Crowley was just working up the courage to make another attempt at storming off when Zira gave him a hungry look and said the words : “ _This one desperately needs discipline.”_

“Fuck!” he groaned. How could he say that to Aziraphale! How humiliating! 

With a furious snarl he stomped into the sitting room wishing to Someone that this world would just implode and take him out of his misery.

Crowley sprawled across the sofa and started in on a good sulk. He desperately wished he could have seen his angel, or at least spoken to him directly. He had no idea what he would say, but it was probably best he didn’t have the opportunity to mess things up further than he already had, but he missed the fussy git.

And Zira had threatened him. In that voice! Had Aziraphale heard that? If that didn’t put his angel off coming here with these nutters, Crowley couldn’t think of anything that would. 

“We should discuss your little threat,” Zira’s wry voice floated from the kitchen. Crowley sank deeper in the sofa and into his sulk. “I’m not sure you understand exactly how badly matched you’d be if you tried to harm me. And in the unlikely event that you managed it, you most certainly would have my Crowley to deal with, and I don’t think you could do much against him either if he was of a mind to harm you.”

“WEEeelll...isn’t that comforting,” Crowley sneered over his shoulder. “But you should understand that in this hypothetical situation where you kill my Aziraphale, I will make good on my threat. I won’t have anything else to lose so I will absolutely hurt you before you kill me.”

“Fair enough,” Zira shrugged. “It certainly isn’t my intention to kill your angel and we won’t proceed until we’re both confident of the summonings efficacy.”

“Then you’ve got nothin’ to worry about,” Crowley drawled with a tight smirk.

“‘Nothing to lose,’” Zira quoted back to him in a sugary voice, making Crowley wince. “You really are so very sweet, aren’t you, my dear?”

Crowley hissed at him and made a rude gesture as Zira came into the room and crouched down to look Crowley in the eye.

"Your Aziraphale has asked me to discipline you for him," he said seriously. Crowley snorted, but Zira continued. "How do you feel about that?"

"I feel like if you wanted to fuck me you could have just said instead of making up rediculous stories," Crowley snapped. Zira's eyes narrowed. He looked deeply offended.

"Do you honestly believe I would _deceive_ you in order to trick you into sex?"

Crowley rolled his eyes and sulked again. He didn't. No Aziraphale would extort someone for sex. "No," he admitted finally. "But… Aziraphale _obviously_ doesn't know what he's asking for."

"Oh, I assure you he does," Zira patted his shoulder lightly. "We discussed it in detail so I understand his boundaries. Now I need to learn yours."

"Nggg," Crowley drew his knees up quickly to hide his stiffening effort. "Now just wait. I'm completely open to some sexy fun but I am not going to be anyone's bloody slave! Not even Aziraphale's."

Zira looked offended for a moment then stood up. "Come with me please," he requested, heading for the stairs. "I'd like to show you something."

Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment and considered his options before following the angel up the stairs. _Damn_ _his_ _curiosity_. Zira stopped at the open doorway to the master bedroom. Anthony was sprawled out on the bed, with one bare leg dangling out of the fluffy blanket. Aziraphale smiled fondly at the sleeping demon.

"I assume you know how much he likes to sleep," Zira whispered to Crowley, brow raised in amusement. "But if I ask him to get up to keep me company do you think he will?"

Crowley shrugged. He honestly had no idea.

"Let's find out," Zira winked before climbing onto the bed and gently nudging Anthony in the shoulder. "Crowley… get up dearest."

"Mmnnnff," Anthony groaned in sleep annoyance. "Wot d’want?"

"I'm lonely," Zira smiled. "Come downstairs and keep me company."

Anthony barely cracked an eye before gently placing his palm directly over Zira's face and forcefully shoving the angel off the bed. Crowley brought his knuckles to his lips to muffle his snort of laughter and turned away back into the hallway. Zira joined him a moment later, straightening his sweater.

"Did _that_ look like a Crowley who lacked _agency_?" Zira demanded. 

"It didn't, no," Crowley grinned. He felt much better having seen that.

"Excellent," Zira sighed. "Then let's head into the guest room and talk."

"Talk... right," Crowley smirked following the angel. "Talk about how you're going to _discipline_ me?"

Zira stood in the doorway to the guest room with a fond warm smile on his face and a long length of black rope in his soft hands. Crowley’s smirk slipped a little.

“That’s right,” he said. “Please do come in.”

  
  



	6. All Sorted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira wants to work on building Crowley's trust.  
> Anthony wants to egg Crowley into being a better demon.  
> Crowley is literally stuck in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least one reader has noticed that the chapter count has gone up to 10. This number is a lie. I have no idea how many chapters there will be. 15? 20? Is this the fic that never ends? I don't know. It was only supposed to be a one shot! I have no idea where this story is going but I'm excited to find out.

Crowley followed Zira into the guestroom and hovered near the doorway as the angel straightened up the blankets. Crowley hadn’t bothered when he’d gotten up. He’d just snapped on a fresh outfit and begun his sneak around the cottage. He hadn’t exactly been expecting to be back here so soon… for _this_ , of all things. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek and watched the careful movements as the angel tugged the corners of the blankets, or smoothed the creases with his manicured fingers. Manicures seemed to be an Aziraphale thing too. No wonder really. It seemed like a fussy sort of indulgence that needed constant upkeep. Crowley looked at his own nails, some torn, some too long, all of them with chipped black lacquer in bad need of reapplication. He thrust his fingers into his skinny shallow pockets and secretly miracled them neat. When he pulled them free again the nails were short, smooth and glossy black. He scowled at them. He’d intended a matte look. 

“Is something wrong?” Zira asked, obviously having caught Crowley glaring at his own hands. The demon quickly shoved his fingers back in his pockets, and pretended he hadn’t just been primping.

“Neh,” he shrugged, ever so cool. “Just not sure you’re thinkin’ this through.”

“Oh?” Zira blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Look, s’not that I think you’re _lying_ about your conversation with Aziraphale, but…” Crowley indicated the coil of black rope at the foot of the bed with his chin. “I’ve known the angel a very long time and _that_ is gonna be factors of bloody _lightspeed_ too fast for him. I think you both might ‘ve got your mystical wires crossed.”

“You may indeed be correct that he isn’t ready for such things,” Zira nodded. “But I’m not him, am I?”

Crowley shrugged again, feeling a strange pang of regret. “Yeh. Tha’s true.”’

“And you are not my Crowley,” Zira added, smiling softly. “Something I’ll need to remember as we go forward lest I go too fast for _you_.”

“Pfft,” Crowley snorted, embarrassed by the assumption. “Ssshaddup. _Too fast for a temptation demon_. S’not a thing, angel.” He scoffed again for good measure and slouched over to the rope, intending to demonstrate his ample (if somewhat rusty) knowledge of knots.

“I'd like to introduce you to Sean,” Zira grinned, indicating the rope. “He’s quite soft and versatile and strong enough to withstand all but the worst of a certain demon’s thrashing.”

"You...named the rope?" Crowley snorted, trying not to picture Anthony tied up and _thrashing._

"Crowley enchanted it, and sometime later one of us must have done, because this is Sean," Zira chuckled. "Sean, attack!" 

Crowley gasped in shock as the rope came alive in his hands and struck like a snake twisting over both his forearms and tightening. His wrists were bound together before he even finished the aforementioned gasp of shock. He struggled to get free, heart hammering in his chest with… excitement. Just like Anthony had bloody said last night. He wasn't afraid. He was excited. 

He gave up his struggling and lifted an expectant brow at Zira, pretending that this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Spontaneous snake-ropes? Saw twelve of ‘em last week. No big deal.

"The release word is 'pomegranate'," Zira told him gently.

"Pomegranate," Crowley tested, and sure enough ‘Sean’ unbound itself and fell to the floor. Crowley quirked an amused smirk and looked back at the angel. "So, I've met Sean. Now what?"

"Let's slow down a bit. I wanted you to know about Sean before Crowley has the chance to surprise you with him. For now, you and I work on establishing _trust_ ," Zira smiled and Crowley immediately blew a loud raspberry and made an emphatic thumbs down gesture. Zira seemed to be expecting it and merely laughed. "I am very certain you will enjoy it if you would kindly just indulge me."

Crowley shrugged and nodded. He’d already made up his mind to go along with whatever sexy shenanigans these idiots wanted and ‘establishing trust’ didn’t sound all that dangerous so…

“Take off your clothing and kneel on the bed,” Zira commanded in that low dark voice and Crowley wasn’t sure he had ever moved so fast in his long life. His clothing was gone with a snap and he leapt onto the bed, grinning nervously and sitting on his heels. He kept his glasses, but Zira didn’t seem to mind.

“Very good,” Zira purred and Crowley shivered in pleasure. Zira slid onto the bed and kneeled behind him and Crowley’s heart lodged itself firmly in his throat.

“I’m going to lightly touch your arms with my fingers tips, all right?” Zira’s voice was low and husky and Crowley swallowed heavily and shook his head, surprising them both.

“Sorry, uh… I mean…” he stammered.

“Are you nervous? Do you want to stop?” Zira asked kindly.

“No! It’s just… Mmuuughhh… I’m just learning that I’m kind of…” he grimaced, blushing furiously. “Sssensitive… to touch, I mean… might embarrass myself.” he grumbled.

“Oh, yes, I remember now,” Aziraphale answered softly. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, my dear. I want you to feel good. I want you to feel safe. I’ll explain what I’m going to do so there are no surprises this time. Would you like that?”

_This time._ Crowley glanced over to ‘Sean’ where it lay abandoned on the floor then nodded.

“We won’t use Sean yet,” Zira chuckled, noticing his look. “I just wanted you to know how it worked because we will be using it at some point later and Crowley might try to snare you with it before that. I love the demon completely, but I won’t have him abusing a guest.”

“Mnh,” Crowley grunted, discomforted by the mention of love. He’d really rather avoid that topic at all costs thanks. Especially while naked. With someone’s husband. 

“For now, I just want to gently touch you with my fingers,” Zira assured him. “I’ll tell you where to expect the touch. If it gets to be too much you can ask to stop. You can move if you must, but please try not to. You may touch yourself if you wish, and as for embarrassing yourself…” Zira chuckled again and Crowley’s cock twitched eagerly. He was _definitely_ going to embarrass himself. “It doesn’t matter how many times you come during this exercise my dear. You’re still going to come for me when I ask you to.”

“Oh my fuck!” Crowley wheezed.

“Shall we begin with your arms?” the madman asked politely.

“Yyyup. Arms. Good. Great.” Crowley squeezed his eyes closed and tensed, hoping to protect his stupid elbows. He flinched slightly when he felt fingertips light upon his shoulders and run lightly down each arm. Zira repeated the motion another nine times and Crowley began to relax. Then the motion slowed and began to move back up, or swirl little curlicues around his lithe muscles. Crowley chewed his lip to keep from moaning. Then one finger skirted the inside of his elbow and Crowley gasped, flinging his head back.

“Ah!,” Zira sighed happily. “Another similarity. Shall we try your hair next?”

“Mmm Hmm,” Crowley hummed an affirmative, afraid to speak. Fingers coursed through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp and massaging over his temples, around his ears. It felt incredible and part of Crowley wanted to curl up on the angel’s lap like a cat and fall asleep.

The other part was rock hard and starting to leak.

The fingers scratched not-so-innocently over the spot at his nape and Crowley hissed, bucking his hips forward.

“Very good,” Zira praised him quietly and Crowley groaned again, his eyes fluttering closed behind his dark glasses. “I’m going to move to your back now, but I will keep my fingers above your hips, all right?”

“Yes,” Crowley was panting now. There was no consistent pattern when Zira started touching his back. One hand gently swirled spirals against his shoulder blade while the other traced up and down his spine. Fingernails skittered over his ribs with just the right amount of pressure to keep from tickling him. Crowley no longer bothered trying to bite back his moans. There was too much sensation to hold back. He wrapped his hand around his erection and started stroking himself slowly. He felt drunk on sensation, struggling to keep himself upright.

“Would you like to lean back?” Zira asked quietly. Crowley’s touch-drunk brain couldn’t work out the logistics of that and he uttered a wordless noise of confusion. Zira chuckled and gently coaxed him backwards until he was leaning against the angel’s chest, his soft sweater sliding against his sensitive back. Crowley whimpered and rolled his hips. It all felt so bloody good.

“Now then,” Zira whispered, his lips near Crowley’s ear now, drawing a pleasant gasp from the demon. “I’d like to touch your hips and legs now. May I please?”

“I’m close… I’m…” Crowley choked, overwhelmed.

“That’s fine, dear,” Zira promised him. “I told you. I want you to let go.”

“I need— " Crowley started and quickly bit his lip to shut himself up. He didn’t think he was supposed to make requests. He was just supposed to sit here and take it.

“What do you need, Red?” 

“Your mouth,” he moaned. “Anywhere. Just kiss me, or bite me, or anything! I just want— Ah!” he cut off with a helpless cry as Zira placed a wet open mouthed kiss against his neck. “Ah! Ah! Ahhnnnggnnn!” His hips stuttered and he gasped a vile oath as he spilled across the sand coloured duvet. “SSssshit,” he groaned. He felt ridiculous, coming so rapidly just from… He was a _demon_ for Chrissakes. At least the rough sex and bondage kink made sense! But gentle touches? Satan, he was pathetic!

“Are you all right?” Zira asked, placing another kiss on his shoulder. “Do you need a minute before we continue?”

“Continue?” Crowley blinked, trying to collect the pieces of his brain and put them back together. Part of him had expected ridicule for coming so quickly. Zira had said it was all right, but… “We’re still doing this?” 

“We are,” Zira smiled. “If you’re ready.”

Crowley blushed, trying not to look at the strips of white that were now starting to sink into the duvet but he nodded. “Okay… yeah… I’m ready.”

Zira continued to lightly touch him, swirling his fingers up and down his thighs, over the sharp jut of his hip and back down just above his knees. A couple times his fingers traced over the top of his hip almost grazing the copper curls there and Crowley found himself getting hard again. He chewed the inside of his cheek, and forced himself to breathe through the sensations. He tried to control himself, cool his blood. He bit his lip and snarked at himself cruelly, but the pleasure was intense, persistent and very distracting.

Then Zira announced another change, waited for agreement, and then lightly traced those deft fingers over the curve of Crowley’s arse, dipping into the cleft, then gently squeezing the flesh where it rested on the demon’s heels. Crowley groaned and gave up on his short-lived quest for self control, squeezing his own cock as Zira kneaded his arse. The pleasure welled up inside him and burst and he came again, shouting another string of profanity.

Zira waited once again for him to collect himself and give the word to continue. This time his fingers roved over Crowley’s belly then up his chest, along his collarbone. His hips again, his ribs. On and on and on, just quiet, gentle, loving touches. It _shouldn't_ feel this good. Crowley _should_ be bored out of his skull. He _should_ be trying to make something more happen. He should! 

He didn’t need slow and steady, or sweet and safe. He was a demon. _He was a demon!_ He shouldn’t like this so bloody much. He shouldn’t be moaning or whimpering or begging for more. His eyes shouldn’t be rolling back in his head as he writhed under soft fingertips and palms. He shouldn’t be slowly rolling his hips, dragging his bollocks against the duvet, hissing in pleasure.

_Crowley, you sodding useless disaster!_

Zira stroked his hands slowly up Crowley’s sides and seized the demon’s rosy nipples between his clever fingers. He rolled and squeezed the firm nubs of flesh until Crowley was bucking again and nearly sobbing. The fingers moved on higher, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, over his cheek bones, around his glasses before he heard the angel cluck his tongue and sigh.

“May I remove these?” he asked gently. 

“Yeap! Fine!” Crowley whined, desperate for the fingers to come back. He groaned as his glasses came off, even that felt erotic with every nerve ending alive and seeking touch. Zira folded the glasses shut and tossed them to the top of the bed.

“Close your eyes, dear,” he was told and Crowley did, biting his lip again as he started to stroke himself again. The fingers gently trailed over his eyelids and along his brow, then back over his nose and along his open lips. Crowley licked his fingers on impulse and groaned happily when Zira placed two of his fingers lightly on his tongue. The demon instantly trapped those fingers in his mouth and sucked, moaning loudly now as he fucked his fist. His other hand came up to hold Zira’s wrist as he fellated those fingers, getting them soaking, rolling his tongue around and between them.

“That’s it, Crowley,” Zira whispered to him. “You’re doing so well. You’re so good, darling.”

Crowley whined, and he’d be thoroughly confused about how this could all feel this intense when he had already come twice if he were capable of thinking about anything beyond _Yes more, yes!_

“I’m going to touch your cock now, dear. May I?” Zira asked in exactly the same voice he used for asking about his arms or back. He took his fingers from Crowley’s mouth so he could answer, leaving a trail of saliva to trail down his chin.

“Oh bloody —”

“May I?”

“Nnggggg FFfft.. Yiss pleasssse,” Crowley babbled, resting his head back on Zira’s shoulder.

Zira wrapped one hand gently around the base of his erection, while his other index finger dipped into his slit and gently circled over the tip. Crowley moaned loudly, no longer caring how he sounded. 

“When are you going to fuck me?” he gasped, suddenly remembering that Zira definitely suggested that was on the agenda.

“Would you like me to?” Zira smiled, gently stroking his cock and making him squirm. “Would you like me to work you open now?”

“Ngk. yeah. That,” Crowley squeaked.

“Very well,” Zira murmured, and snapped his fingers, instantly clearing the bed of the mess Crowley had made of it. Crowley only had a moment to wonder about that before he was being pitched forward, his face pushed into the freshly clean blanket.

A moment later something warm and wet wriggled between his cheeks and flicked against his entrance and Crowley keened. After using nothing but hands and fingers to bring him off this far, the sudden use of tongue in this most intimate of places had Crowley flying! Zira kissed his thigh, gently bit one round cheek, chuckling as Crowley rocked his hips against him and swore. Crowley was beside himself by the time Zira went back to licking at his entrance, rubbing it with his lips, and finally _finally_ breaching him with a slick finger. 

Crowley howled into the blanket and came again, stars exploding behind his eyes this time.

“Kinda hard to sleep with this racket goin’ on, Angel,” a surly voice complained behind him.

“Fuuuck…” Crowley groaned at the sound of Anthony’s voice. He could only imagine how debauched he looked, sweat-slick and shivering, crouched on his knees with his face in the covers and Zira’s fingers in his arse.

“I did tell you I was lonely,” Zira chirped pleasantly and casually added another finger as Crowley did his best to muffle his pleasured cry.

“Fair,” Anthony sighed, “but I’m up now. Anything I can help with?”

_Oh fucking Hell…_

“I think I have things managed on this end,” Zira chuckled and Crowley flushed with humiliation at the double entendre before he felt fingers twist in his hair and his head was yanked up so Anthony could look into his wild eyes. Pain-pleasure zipped through him and his scalp sang for having his hair pulled while fingers worked his hole open. It felt perfect and the bloody demon knew it because _of course he did!_

“You’re in for a treat,” Anthony told him happily. “Getting thoroughly railed by a Principality is one of life’s rarest pleasures.”

“Oh stop, Crowley,” Zira chided. “I already told the poor boy I’d be gentle.”

“Pff,” Anthony rolled his eyes, disappointed. Crowley tried to flip him off but just then the angel added a third finger and Crowley groaned and lurched forward again nearly collapsing into the other demon’s arms. Anthony lifted him up, half supporting his chest and shoulders as he slid onto the bed with them. Zira moved his fingers in deeper and crooked them firmly against Crowley’s prostate, making him keen helplessly until the sound of his cry was suddenly muffled by Anthony’s lips as the demon kissed him.

Elated to have something to focus on aside from the maddeningly slow stretch and preparation behind him, Crowley gladly gave himself over to kissing the other demon. He’d wanted something to do with his mouth ever since Zira put his fingers on his tongue.

Crowley practically crawled up Anthony's chest, grabbing the other demon by the hair with a groan of satisfaction. Crushing their mouths together, working his hands under Anthony's tee-shirt and ripping it off over his head, it gave Crowley something to concentrate on other than the slow, relentless fingers working him open.

Anthony reciprocated immediately, shimmying out of his ridiculous tartan pyjama bottoms. He summoned a tube of jelly, grabbed Crowley's hand out of his hair and deposited a large amount on his palm. Before Crowley even had a chance to complain about the amount, Anthony scraped half of it onto his own hand. 

"Brilliant," Crowley laughed before Anthony kissed him again and they were both stroking each other, groaning into each other's mouths.

Crowley felt light kisses trailing on the back of his neck, on his shoulder and shivered at all the touch. He had never experienced so much touching and he'd never known how badly he was missing out.

He was getting dizzy off it, losing track of all the various landmarks of pleasure. Anthony bit his lip nearly hard enough to break skin and Crowley gasped, rolling his hips into the demon’s fist and, unfortunately, off the angel’s lovely fingers. He groaned at the loss of stimulation and arched back again but the fingers didn’t return. As if to add to his sense of loss, Anthony stopped stroking his cock as well, slipping his clever hand lower to circle Crowley’s bollocks, palming it gently as he sucked a bruise into Crowley’s neck. And then the bloody bastard squeezed. It wasn’t hard, not enough to cause any pain, but definitely enough for Crowley to notice and cry out in frustration as his impending orgasm dissolved into nothingness.

“You fucking peice of—” he snarled before Anthony silenced him with another hard kiss. The pressure around Crowley’s nethers didn’t let up for a second.

“Easy, Ssserpent,” Anthony chuckled until Crowley moved his own hand down and pulled the exact same maneuver. Anthony let his head fall forward onto Crowley’s shoulder with a gasped invective. “Unfair!” Anthony whined. “I wasss just trying to keep you from coming when—”

Crowley cried out in surprised delight when Zira abruptly took him by his hips and drew him back onto a gloriously thick erection. His hold on Anthony was immediately abandoned as his fingers went limp. The angel’s hands slid up his sides to his chest, anchoring him as he slowly pressed forward, filling the demon up by inches until Crowley was seated on his lap, his head rolling back against Zira’s broad shoulder. 

“That’s it, dear. Take a breath for me please,” the angel murmured. Crowley obeyed, if faintly, sucking air between his teeth as his heart hammered away in his chest and his body fought to adjust to the exquisite stretch. Distantly he heard Anthony swear again.

“So that’s how I look when you do that to me,” he laughed. Crowley would have glared at him if he had the wherewithal to open his eyes. Holy Heaven this felt fantastic! He’d forgotten. It had been so bloody long since he’d indulged in this particular activity and even then… it hadn’t felt like _this._

“Come here, Crowley dear,” Zira whispered.

“Don’t think I can get much closer, Angel,” Crowley squeaked, making the blonde giggle and causing a ripple of movement to zing up his own spine.

“I meant _my_ Crowley, Red,” Zira murmured, pressing a kiss below his ear. Crowley felt himself blush and made the mistake of squirming slightly which… well… resulted in another high-pitched squeak. Anthony shuffled closer, and grinned at him. That was when Crowley realized he’d finally opened his eyes. His breathing was harsh, but under control. At least until Anthony bent forward and licked across his collarbone and took his nipple between his teeth. 

“Ah!” Crowley bucked forward, sliding forward on Zira’s cock, drawing an answering moan from the angel and an evil laugh from the demon.

“Crowley,” Zira chided. “Really.”

The angel reached past Crowley’s head to grab a handful of shiny black hair. Crowley caught a glimpse of wide topaz eyes, before Anthony was pulled hard against Crowley’s chest, forcing him to fall back against Zira in kind. Stars exploded behind his eyes.

“Now, Red…?”

“Not my name,” Crowley gasped, still not too far gone not to be a shit. Anthony snickered and licked his ear.

“Red, dear?” Zira asked, snapping his hips at the same time as a firm hand gripped his jaw. It was just close enough to his throat to add a hint of danger and the combination had Crowley’s eyes rolling back in his skull.

“Yup, yep! I’m listening,” he moaned. ‘Red’ was fine. He'd answered to worse.

“Wrap your arms around Cr— _tsk_ , this is going to become bothersome— around _your double_ please, dear,” Zira ordered. Crowley was happy to comply, once again benefiting from something to hold on to. In turn, Zira released his chest and took them both into his arms.

“Oh, my dear,” Zira groaned. It was the first time Crowley had heard Zira so affected. 

“Do you need help, Angel?” Anthony grumbled impatiently. Crowley gave a weak grin, feeling a bit impatient himself. Then Anthony took his hips and moved him forward and back again before giving his cock a light squeeze and both Zira and Crowley cried out in pleasure.

"Oh, gently, Red!" Zira moaned, blaming the wrong demon. "I'd intended to begin gently but… Oh! that's..."

Crowley shot Anthony a half-hearted glare. He was capable of getting into trouble on his own without a bloody frame-job, but Zira was _moving_ now so he couldn't really stay annoyed.

"Ah! yessss," he hissed, resting his head on Anthony's shouldn't as Zira rolled into him again deeper this time. "Hhhharder. C'mon…"

"Oh, I'm… " Zira sighed, placing a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm trying to _behave_ myself here, dear, if you wouldn't mind." He chuckled then and kissed his neck. 

"You've got two demons in your arms and you want to behave?" Anthony spat. "C'mon, Angel. Fuck him properly. You're embarrassing me."

Zira froze, the hot glide halted mid-stroke and Crowley was suddenly wary of the position he was in. "Excuse me?" Zira growled. Crowley couldn't see the angel's face but he knew that tone. He tossed Anthony a pleading look but it went unnoticed.

"Here I've been, telling him all about your _superior_ _strokes_ , gotta talk up my angel, right? But you're, wot? Juss gonna give a light massage eh? Tryin' to put him to sleep?"

"Shit," Crowley groaned. "Don't start—" 

"You are such a _brat_ ," Zira chided, but he snapped his hips again harder, striking Crowley perfectly and causing fireworks to go off behind his eyes.

“Bloody Hell…” he moaned. “If you two are gonna have a domestic, can you at least lemme go first?”

Zira rolled his hips again more gently and huffed a soft laugh against his neck. “Aww. Poor dear thinks we’re fighting, love,” he chuckled, lifting his hand over Crowley’s shoulder to run his hand through Anthony’s hair. “We should tone it down a bit, I think. He’s new to—”

“I keep tellin’ you that demons aren’t bloody fragile,” Anthony hissed at his husband. “He doesn’t need to be coddled. He needs some fuckin’ sense beat into ‘im.”

“Oi!” Crowley snapped his fingers in front of their faces to get their attention. “How ‘bout neither, eh? Not much into coddling or getting beaten so just no to both options.”

“He didn’t mean he’d _literally_ beat you,” Zira muttered.

“Might a bit,” Anthony’s grin was all teeth. “If the situation calls for it and you keep being an idiot about everything. Not really known for our wealth of patience and understanding, we Crowleys.”

“The three of us were _fucking_ and _you_ stopped it all to have a spat!” Crowley snarled at the demon. His erection was flagging and he was of half a mind to slither off somewhere and hide. “So don’t talk to me about bein’ an idiot!”

“Red makes an excellent point,” Zira murmured before curling his tongue against Crowley’s ear while carding his hand a hand through his hair. “Really Crowley, must you be so negative?” He began thrusting again, moving Crowley back against Anthony and steadying him with a hand on his hip and the one in his hair. Crowley huffed out a breath of surprise, and his next breath came out as a moan. 

Much better, this. 

“Yeah,” Anthony sulked. “Just don’t want him running off on us like he did his angel. Can’t fix anything if he’s not gonna be open to it.”

“He feels pretty open to me,” Zira grunted, sliding home again and giving Crowley the bizarre experience of groan-laughing at a terrible joke, while moaning in pleasure at the same time. 

“Might have a point, Angel,” Anthony purred then, lifting Crowley’s chin to make him look at him. “Can’t run if we fuck him so well he can barely walk.”

“OOohh, threatening me with a good time again,” Crowley snarked back. “Except that you’re the one who can’t bloody shut up and get on with it! You don’t scare me, you drab bastard, so either fuck me or fuck off.”

Anthony’s scowl softened at that, his eyes shining with mischief as his face split in another wide grin.

“Definitely the former, Red,” he snickered, leaning in to nip at his jaw. “Specially now that you’re talkin’ like a proper demon again.” 

Crowley tried to roll his eyes at the ridiculous demon when the husbands silently coordinated their movements and Crowley abruptly found it difficult to do anything more than squeeze his eyes shut and hold on. 

Zira’s hand tightened in his head, drawing his head back and while his other hand covered his now exposed throat. There was just the slightest bit of pressure applied to the underside of his jaw at the root of his tongue. It felt like being choked without any of the difficulty breathing and Crowley might have been fascinated by that if we weren’t currently losing his mind.

Anthony’s hand cupped his bollocks, rolling and tugging, massaging this perineum with a sharp knuckle. The other hand was torturing one of Crowley’s nipples and Zira was fucking him harder now. It was too much stimulation all at once. Crowley was immediately thrown into a dark sea of pleasure, buffeted on the waves of it as he climbed higher and higher on what felt like an endless swell. It was too much. He wanted to come. He _had_ to, but each time he thought he’d break apart he just went higher. 

Anthony reached over him, grabbing Zira close and kissing him wildly over Crowley’s shoulder and they both thrust against the redhead, pawing at each other now, and somehow, _that_ was what did it.

The sensation decreased just enough, the hands and fingers and lips subsided and instead there was just the press of bodies in front of him, behind him, inside him. He was squeezed between them, held so securely and Crowley could finally see the crest of the wave he was on and _SHIT_ it was gonna be one hell of a drop but — 

“Ah! Oh! Oh fuck I’m… I’m… Ah! AH!” — Could you actually die from an orgasm? Should he be worried? — “Ah! FUckin’ CHRIST!” He screamed, jerking wildly between the press of bodies. He felt Zira pull out of him and howled at the loss of that sweet pressure, wanting more than anything to be fucked through this, but Anthony was stroking him as he spilled between them in hot bursts and he hissed, feeling the warm spill of the angel’s release against lower back.

“Ah...Ah...Fu...Fff…” Crowley felt faint for a moment and it was only Anthony’s fingers digging into his shoulders that kept him from falling against the demon’s chest. 

“That was… splendid, dear,” Zira sighed. “Although I do apologize for the mess.”

“Hnngh?” Crowley replied, still trying to find his brain. Anthony whined and mouthed plaintively at his shoulder, his fingers starting to bruise. It took Crowley an embarrassingly long time to notice the demon hadn't come yet. He sounded desperate. 

“Can I? Can I?” he was moaning, rutting against Crowley’s belly.

“Yeh,” Crowley answered, unaware of _what_ he was agreeing to, but beyond caring. This afterglow was so vast nothing could touch him.

Anthony groaned in satisfaction and slid out of the way, all but tossing Crowley forward onto the bed. Then Crowley was being filled again, fucked hard into the mattress and oh, _that’s_ _what he agreed to_ and that was fucking just fine actually. Anthony was too close to keep the pace up for long and after another few hard thrusts he came, flooding Crowley’s arse and moaning obscenely. Crowley was spent, eyes half focused, mouth open, drooling onto the ruined duvet. 

_What a perfectly delightful morning._

“Tha...Thank y…” Anthony was panting above him, half collapsed over his back. “S’much better now.”

“Mmm hmm,” Crowley agreed.

“I think a shower might be in order now, and then breakfast?” Zira suggested from somewhere behind them. Crowley chuckled tiredly. _So Aziraphale._

“Yeah.. s’pose we should keep his strength up,” Anthony teased, climbing off Crowley and giving his drenched arse a slap. 

“Sssstill not scared of you,” Crowley smiled, letting his eyes drift closed. He should get up. He _did_ have a bit of an appetite for a change, and a hot shower sounded really good right now.

“Oh! You met Sean!” Anthony laughed. 

Crowley’s eyes snapped open at the mention of the rope. “C’mon, lazy snake. Let’s get you cleaned up,” the dark demon grinned down at him, tossing Sean to the side and offering his hand. Crowley groaned and accepted the help up off the bed. He felt sore, and one of his legs might have fallen asleep from kneeling for so long, but he was fairing surprisingly well considering.

“Oh, yikes, you’re a mess, mate,” Anthony snickered at him.

“Yeah?” Crowley smirked back, stretching his arms up over his head. “Issit because I’ve got just got covered in three people’s worth of fucking spend, you bloody monster? You could snap me clean you know, since your brain seems to be more functional than mine at the moment.”

“Neh,” Anthony teased, pulling him down the hall. “Shower’s better. Muuuch better. Hot water, unholy water pressure. I’ll take care of you, get you back to good as new.”

“Weird,” Crowley followed, not at all sure about being ‘taken care of’ by anyone let alone Anthony. Crowleys weren’t known for their wealth of patience, but neither were they known for their abundance of consideration.

“Good as new,” Anthony repeated with a chuckle as he led Crowley into a large bathroom. Zira was already in the shower, hidden behind the fogged glass door. Anthony slid his arm over Crowley's shoulder and he smiled mischievously before opening the shower and shoving him in with Zira. He was soon bracketed by the husbands under the spray of the promised water pressure.

It was a tight fit but Crowley could hardly complain about the occasional bump or slide against another hot soap-slick body. It was almost enough to keep his mind off what was missing. Off who he was missing. 

But time was running out there if Zira was to be believed. Aziraphale would be here. What would that mean? Obviously all the mind-numbing sex would stop immediately and he accepted that. They'd work on getting home, that much he knew but what would it mean for their friendship?

Maybe before all this Crowley could have ignored the kiss and returned to their previous post-apocalypse arrangement. _Maybe_. But now? 

Time was running out all right. Aziraphale would come here. He'd get totally spooked and by the time they made it back to their proper universe the poor fluffy sod would be so scarred and shellshocked it might be another 6,000 years before he'd even _look_ at Crowley again. When Crowley finally ended up losing the angel was there anything left there for him? 

He inched back under the spray, watching the husbands tease each other. He winced at the easy smiles, the obvious affection behind every joke, every touch.

There would be nothing for Crowley _here_ either.

"I need something," he croaked, surprising himself with the volume. He had water in his ears. It was making him louder than he thought. They stopped making soppy eyes at each other and looked at him. Zira looked concerned, Anthony seemed wary. 

"I just… I need assurances… in case… in case it goes…"

"No," Anthony growled. Crowley met his gaze and although Anthony had barely moved Crowley recognized the Serpent within had coiled, ready to strike. They stared at each other angrily. 

"I don't think I understand what you're saying, dear," Zira frowned, looking between the two Crowleys. "Why don't we dry off and have some breakfast and we can discuss whatever it is—"

"No need," Anthony quipped, still holding Crowley's gaze. "Sorted it just now, _didn't we, Red?_ "

"Sure," Crowley grumbled, shrugging off his disappointment. "All sorted." 

He thought Anthony of all people would understand but it was fine. He didn’t need their help. He didn’t need anyone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Hiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crowleys work out their differences very aggressively and stupidly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: A brief slap. It is out of anger. Crowley is kinda into it, and there is no further violence but it is there.
> 
> I think that's the only thing that might be meh. I'm a bit drunk so let me know if there is something I missed.

Crowley lurked by the book case in the sitting room and watched Anthony and Zira quietly argue about him in the kitchen. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying but Anthony was clearly furious and Zira was doing a piss job calming him down.

And Crowley never did get any breakfast. 

The shower had ended abruptly when Anthony tossed a fit for _basically_ no reason. Crowley snapped himself dry and clothed and kept his distance from the husbands ever since.

… not that it was difficult. Anthony had all but chased Crowley off with sharp hisses and glares until Zira dragged him off into the kitchen for a ‘chat’.

So Crowley lurked and watched, all narrowed eyes and wounded pride, as a gentle-hearted angel patiently grounded a snarling demon with soft words and a deep mutual respect that cut Crowley to the marrow.

So the redhead casually flicked a book off the shelf and felt a little bit better. Zira took Anthony into his arms and after a moment’s hesitation Anthony returned the embrace, Crowley knocked another two books down, and started nudging a snow globe toward the edge with one long finger. Zira looked up at him and he paused, finger still on the trinket, watching them impassively from behind the safety of his glasses. Anthony looked up finally, tossing him a sullen glare before turning away. Zira, however, decided to join Crowley in the sitting room. 

Blue eyes flicked down to the fallen books and back up at Crowley, unamused.

“You will be picking those up,” he told Crowley. It wasn’t a question. The snow globe inched a bit closer to its demise. “It seems there’s been a miscommunication between you two,” Zira continued, glancing behind him to where Anthony was still ignoring him. “At least, I very much _hope_ it was a miscommunication and you weren’t _really_ about to ask us to get you Holy water,” the angel added in a tone that suggested Crowley had _better not have been asking for Holy water or else._

“And?” Crowley drawled, neither confirming nor denying his interest in illicit blessed liquids. Zira shook his head, annoyed. 

“I’m off to Soho. I have some things at the shop that might aid us in bringing your angel here,” he chided. “I am trusting you both to be mature enough to work this out yourselves.”

“Excellent plan, that,” Crowley sneered with peak condescension. Zira huffed and vanished. The snow globe suffered the demon’s wrath immediately, cast down to the depths of the Turkish rug.

“Oi,” Anthony hissed. “Tha’s not bloody yours to toss about.”

“ _Nothing_ is mine to toss about,” Crowley smirked, slinking over to another shelf and slowly pulling another book loose.

“What’s Aziraphale done to get under your skin?” Anthony grumbled, picking up the items Crowley had already knocked over, miracling the crack in the globe closed.

“Absolutely nothing,” Crowley responded innocently, flicking the next book to the floor. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Zira,” Anthony growled. “You know that’s all _his_ things you’re knocking over. Not mine.”

“Oh, yeh. I’m well aware,” Crowley grinned his sharp-toothed smile. “But I know that the fastest way to make _me_ lose my absolute shit would be to go after the angel’s things.” Crowley thrust his hand behind the books and scooped a whole armload off the shelf, flinging them to the floor. Anthony snarled and Crowley immediately found himself upstairs in the main bedroom, his wrists tightly bound behind his back. Anthony stood in front of him and slapped Crowley hard across the face before he’d even fully gotten his bearings. 

“You leave the angel outta this,” Anthony seethed. “It isn’t his bloody job to fix what’s broken in you.”

“One might say it isn’t anyone's job,” Crowley mocked, actually enjoying the stinging cheek. “One _might_ also point out it wasn’t my idea to come to your bloody world in the first place!”

“My bringing you here’s the best thing to happen to you in centuries. Admit it,” Anthony smirked. “Sit down. We gotta talk.” He shoved Crowley hard back onto the satin sheets.

“Neh,” Crowley smirked back. “Don’t think I will. _Pomegranate_.”

Crowley frowned when the release word failed to release him. He said it again louder and tugged at the rope binding his wrists. He snapped his fingers to miracle them off. Nothing worked. Anthony gave a theatrically evil laugh.

“Tha’s not Sean,” he grinned. “Don’t think Zira’s shown you _April_ yet.”

“How many enchanted ropes have you idiots got?” Crowley complained. “Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. I might not be able to enchant ropes like you’ve learned to do—”

“I could teach you if you weren’t being so bloody stubborn,” Anthony interjected.

“ — but I know that there is no version of me that would create a trap I couldn’t get out of,” Crowley finished with a hiss. A second later he slipped into his snake form and slithered right out of the enchanted rope just like he figured he could. Because he was a _fucking genius_ and Anthony better not forget.

“What’s your plan now?” Anthony was saying, not sounding particularly chagrined at being outsmarted. Crowley, the fucking genius, quickly came to realize that might be because serpent scales can’t get traction on satin. Now he now found himself slithering like mad, stuck in place as if the bed was the snake version of a treadmill. Anthony laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. Crowley hissed at him and received a patronizing pat on the head for it. 

Humiliating? Yes. But Anthonyy was in arms reach and in this form Crowley was quicker so he bit the demon’s hand. Anthony hissed in pain and swore at him, trying to pull his hand away but Crowley held on, letting himself be dragged closer to the demon so he could start winding himself around him. Following his instinct, he started to squeeze. Anthony glared down at him angrily.

“Seriously?”He snapped. “You’re gonna fuckin…” he trailed off has Crowley tightened across his chest, squeezing the air from the other demon’s lungs. Anthony managed to gasp out the word “idiot!” before he too turned into a snake and two of them fell back to the sheets in a coil. 

Anthony’s snake form was nearly identical to Crowley’s without the red belly, and it was similarly confounded by satin sheets. They flailed around at each other uselessly, both knowing that the first of them to switch back to human form was going to get bitten and squeezed breathless.

“You had to go for sssatin fucking sheetsss, didn’t you,” Crowley hissed, trying to strike Anthony with another bite. “Walking cliche,”

“Right, and what’sss on your bed then?” Anthony snapped. “I’m _you_ , dickhead. I wager _your_ satin sheetsss are just like new too because no one but you ever uses them!”

“S’not sssatin,” Crowley lied, but the rest of his denial was cut off by Anthony’s next strike landing a direct hit across the middle of his body, nearly causing him to roll. The black snake made immidate use of his advantage because while snake scales didn’t find purchase on satin, they sure as fuck did on another bloody snake! Crowley found himself getting tangled up in Anthony and vice versa and the more he struggled against the sheets the more tired he got. Anthony just had to wait him out, slowly coiling around him and holding him down.

Crowley had never fought another snake before. Snakes knew their place around him and wouldn’t fucking _dare_ . There was something very disconcerting about the sensation of scales running over his scales. satin sheets under him, the faint scent of sex still in the air in here (Anthony was obviously very busy last night!) and Crowley found himself getting a little… confused. When Anthony rasped against his vent Crowley squeaked and froze, giving up the fight before things _somehow_ got weirder.

Anthony seemed to realize something was wrong and froze too.

‘All right?” he asked after a moment of Crowley quietly freaking out. “Wosn’t expecting you to come to your sssenses so soon.”

“Er…” Crowley said.

“Ah,” Anthony snickered and started moving again. “Not much practice at fighting in sssnake form, me. Especially not another snake. I guesssss when I’m trying not to actually hurt you it might feel a bit like mating, hmmm?”

“Might a bit,” Crowley mumbled, his small voice muffled by Anthony’s head sliding over his own.

“We could alwaysss… put a pin in this argument. Take a break and come back to it,” he suggested innocently.

“Did you do this on purpossssse?” Crowley groaned.

“Coursssse not!” Anthony laughed. “Not like I fight a lot of demon snakesss, you idiot.”

“We change back on three?”

“Agreed.”

Crowley counted for them and they changed back, Anthony sprawled out on top of Crowley. The raven-haired demon instantly snatched Crowley’s wrists and pinned him down. The confused semi-erection from earlier suddenly made up its mind that yes, now it was indeed time to play. It must have been poking Anthony in the hip because the darker demon’s smirk was horribly smug.

“Break?” Anthony asked, arching a brow and squeezing Crowley’s wrists with his hands. Crowley sighed, his head falling back and hips rolling up for more contact. 

“Uhnf! Make it quick, will you?” he snarked. “I got more books to throw on the floor and Ah!—” his threat cut off when Anthony wrapped his arms around Crowley’s hips, grabbing his arse and rutting against him hard and fast. Crowley tipped his head back all the way he could stretch, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of sensation as Anthony panted above him, riding him furiously. 

“Hah...hah...hah…” Crowley chanted, his eyes rolling back as the pleasure mounted. Anthony buried his face in his throat, licking and nibbling his skin, and then bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Crowley shouted and bucked, grabbing Anthony’s hair in delight as his orgasm built. A couple more good thrusts and — 

“Ah! No!” Crowley cried in dismay as Anthony abruptly slid forward to straddle his stomach instead and all the stimulation instantly stopped. Crowley tried to rub himself the rest of the way but his hands were recaptured and there was nothing to thrust against. 

“ _Insurance_ ,” Anthony snapped. “In case things go pear shaped? Really? You think I don’t know exactly what the fuck that means?”

“I was _counting_ on you knowing what that means!” Crowley snarled up at him. “And if you don’t want to help me then fine! A simple no would fucking suffice!”

“Holy water!” Anthony growled. “You gonna melt another duke of Hell? You think Hastur’s gonna fall for that shit twice?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Crowley groaned. “S’not for Hastur and you know it. And it isn’t like it would be my first choice anyway, you know. Just wanted the option in case… Just in case things got…” Crowley gnashed his teeth and looked away from Anthony. “Just in case. All right? And you said no. So… If you’re not gonna fuck me then just get off me so I can go finish myself off in the loo.”

“I really thought we were getting somewhere with you,” Anthony frowned. “Then you go pull this depressing rot. What’s gotten into you?”

“Look, it's all well and good for _you_ to have your sexy fantasy with your bloody clone, but it’s different for me, all right?” Crowley snarled. “You dragged me here, showed me how bloody great you have it, but I’m gonna have to go back to my world now and pretend I didn’t see any of it!”

“Why?” Anthony snorted. “You’re angel is coming _here_ , you daft idiot. S’not like he’s not going to see exactly the life Zira and I have.”

“Exactly!” Crowley shouted. “Ugh! Just fucking kill me now. He’s gonna be so… _horrified_.”

“Hey!” Anthony snapped. “That’s my marriage you’re callin’ horrifying.”

“You don’t understand,” Crowley told him glumly. “We haven’t been smashing bits since the dawn of time. We don’t have your history. I’m just a demon he’s been working with to pull one over on our bosses and thwart the Great Plan. He saved the world because he loves t _he world_. Not me, Crowley. He doesn’t love me, and you need to understand that!”

“You’re an idiot,” Anthony responded wryly. 

“You’ve never even met him!” Crowley wanted to scream but managed to keep it down to a dull shriek. “You don’t know my Aziraphale at all! He’s… he’s… timid! He’s sweet. He’s entirely, _dangerously_ too fond of crepes. He’s only grudgingly admitted we’re friends just recently. He will absolutely lose what’s left of his mind when he comes here. Please please _please_ don’t accuse him of having feelings he doesn’t have. It will only make everything worse!”

Anthony stared at him seriously for a moment and Crowley hated himself for being this weak. Pleading with another demon, even if that demon was himself? Weakness. 

“All right,” Anthony agreed. “I won’t make any assumptions about your angel’s feelings when he’s here. I won’t try to push you two together or let on how you feel about him if that’s what you want.”

Relief flooded through Crowley like a balm and he shuddered and relaxed under the other demon, breathing easier.

“And in return, you won’t say another bloody thing about Holy water,” Anthony grumbled. “I can’t think of anything that would hurt Aziraphale— _any Aziraphale_ — more than learning their Crowley used Holy water to end their existence.”

“Hehnn?” Crowley uttered, confused. “What would… I mean, I wouldn’t ever if I thought he’d…”

“He’s Aziraphale, Crowley,” Anthony reminded him, wryly. “ _He Aziraphales about things_.”

“Fuck,” Crowley whispered. He would too. He hadn’t considered what… shit. Shit! Crowley covered his face with his hands. “Aw bloody _FUCK_! What am I gonna do?!”

“Well… I still don’t know why you’re ruling out a foursome,” Anthony grinned. Crowley splayed his fingers enough to glare up at the insolent demon. “I mean, that threesome was very good…”

“It was...” Crowley admitted. “Even though you kept tryin’ to ruin it.”

“By suggesting that you might do something dramatic and depressing?” Anthony teased. “Yeah, I was so very wrongheaded there, wosn’t I?”

“Oh, sod off,” Crowley grumbled. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“Hmmm…” Anthony snuggled down beside Crowley. “I think I’ve made it up to you a number of times now,” he chuckled, his nimble fingers oh-so-casually unfastening Crowley’s belt.

“You better be about to finish what you started,” Crowley groaned. “That was bloody cruel, you know. I was so close.”

Anthony snickered, and Crowley decided that, _nope_ , the trust was gone and slapped the demon’s fingers away from his belt before rolling over and attacking Anthony’s flies.

“Wot’r you—” Anthony complained before Crowley had his trousers open and pulled his half hard erection free of his pants. Crowley flicked his tongue across the tip of his cock and felt it twitch in his hands. He smirked evilly up at Anthony who smiled back and shrugged, lying back down and stretching languidly.

“If you try to pull that shit on me, I will skin you alive,” Anthony warned him before letting out a small gasp as Crowley took him into his mouth. It was tempting, but too obvious. Besides, Crowley had come embarrassingly quickly and often. This was his chance to take Anthony apart and he intended to make the demon scream. He had his own tricks, after all. Things he’d learned from the humans he’d fucked over the years. Things he knew they loved.

“Oh, Oh, Ah! Wot are you doing?” Anthony gasped, arching up off the bed.

What Crowley was doing was expertly deepthroating the demon while his extremely long tongue flicked out past his bottom lip to lap at Anthony’s soft bollocks. It wasn’t the most glamourous move and tended to result in a lot of messy drool, but it also reduced his partners to pleased shrieks pretty effectively. 

“That’s… That’s… Ah! Nevermind! More! _More of that!_ ”

Crowley brought his tongue back in and swallowed hard a couple times before slithering his tongue back out, wet and dripping, pushing it along the crease where cock met bollocks and Anthony thrust himself hard into Crowley’s throat. Crowley pulled off a bit, excited and needing a breath. _Varity is spicy,_ or something like that, so he sucked hard on the tip, slipping his tongue into the slit as he jacked the rest of Anthony’s length with firm slow strokes. Anthony growled and thrashed on the bed before grabbing fistfuls of Crowley’s hair and shoving his prick further into Crowley’s mouth.

“More!” Anthony begged. “Do it again! Do it Ah! — ” Crowley did it again. He slid Anthony’s cock snugly down his throat and swallowed around it, tasting the precum and thrilling at the way Anthony pulled his hair and swore at him. His tongue lashed out again, flicking viciously at any soft flesh it could reach as Crowley hummed in delight and Anthony choked on another vile oath before he shouted and came in great spurts down Crowley’s throat, filling his mouth with it faster than Crowley could swallow. He didn’t even mind that what Anthony shouted was “Angel”. That was even better. That was going to be fodder even more delicious than the satisfaction he was lapping up right now. 

“Yuh...You… You’ve been...holding out on me,” Anthony wheezed. Crowley grinned up at him. “I demand that you teach me your ways.” Anthony smiled, sated.

“Demand, hmm?” Crowley slid up the other demon’s body. “Wot’s in it for me?”

“Well, I gotta practice, don’t I?” Anthony smirked. “Wanna perfect it before I use it on Zira, right?”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah. What a thoughtful husband you are.”

  
  
  


Needless to say, those books didn't get picked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snakes on satin sheets (or possibly any sheets?) is kinda hilarious. It is probably a good work out for them, but has the added benefit of being freaking adorable so I highly recommend you look it up if you've never seen it.


	8. How Was Your Day?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira heads into Soho to do some research leaving the Crowleys to their own chaotic devices.  
> Back in TV land, Aziraphale gets bored of waiting and reaches out to Zira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Popcorn POV time!

Aziraphale knew he had a bottomless capacity for worry, and he tried very hard to approach his fretting logically when he felt it getting too much. However, logic wasn’t of great use when dealing with alternate universes and the realization that one might be perhaps possibly somewhat a little bit in love with a demon. And that demon was currently trapped in another universe with much more confident versions of themselves and Aziraphale might have perhaps possibly somewhat given the other angel a green light to _seduce_ his demon. 

That might have been a misstep. Crowley might not want to come home.

The thought nagged at him throughout the morning, putting him so far out of sorts that when the door chimed merrily announcing a customer's entrance to the shop, Aziraphale glared at the poor man for the dubious crime of not being Crowley.

Having managed to frighten the man off Aziraphale figured it best to just close the shop for the day. He snatched up the cellular phone, willing it to ring, or chime, or vibrate, or whatever it wished really, so long as it brought him news. 

He then glanced at his watch and laughed at himself as he put the device away. It was still not even noon! Crowley hadn't even been gone a full 24 hours and Aziraphale was beside himself. He used to go decades, centuries even, with little to no word from the demon! 

But that was before. Before the world nearly ended. Before _Our Side_ . Before _'Love you Angel'._

And before a certain story about a certain other angel and demon in another ancient Rome…

"What am I doing?" Aziraphale grumbled to himself as he snatched the cellular phone back out of his pocket and clicked it on. It was silent and there were no new messages. There _was_ however a new icon on the screen that looked rather similar to the green button that answered Zira’s call last night. Aziraphale stared at it for a moment, chewing his lip, and then clicked it. His eyes widened when he heard ringing. He nearly swallowed his own tongue when Zira answered!

“All right?”

“It worked!” Aziraphale said with a pleased little gasp.

“So it would seem,” Zira agreed, sounding distracted. “Is something wrong?”

“No no, nothing’s wrong,” Aziraphale rushed to assure the other angel. “I was thinking about Crowley and noticed there was a new icon on the cellular you sent me and I suppose I was curious.”

“Our connection must be getting stronger,” Zira suggested and he also sounded very pleased.

“Yes!… _Yes?_ ” Aziraphale waffled, confused. “Only I’m not certain that makes any sense really.”

“About as much sense as _any_ of this makes,” Zira mused with a good natured snort.

“I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Aziraphale tittered, suddenly remembering the request he’d made of his counterpart and fretting over the nature of things he might be interrupting.

“Not really,” Zira sighed. “Research mostly, although I admit I’m going a bit out of my head. Usually I’m much better at this, but I’m afraid I’m not finding a great deal of information to help our cause.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale frowned, all sense of mirth flying away. “Nothing on my end either. That doesn’t seem to bode well, does it?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Aziraphale chewed his lip again and felt very close to tears.

“The thing is, I feel quite certain we can pull it off anyway,” Zira told him finally and Aziraphale let out a long breath in relief. “But I can’t explain the reason for that certainty, and I’m afraid your Crowley was _extremely_ clear that your safety was not to be risked for the sake of this endeavour.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale smiled fondly. “That is frustratingly sweet of him.”

“Listen, since I have you on the line… Something came up that I think you ought to be aware of,” Zira claimed, his voice lowered, conspiratorial. Aziraphale felt himself lean forward, hunching around the phone as if closing the distance to share a furtive whisper. “I’m not quite sure why at the moment, but your Crowley made a distressing request earlier this morning… and it sounded rather like he was asking us to fetch him some Holy water.”

Aziraphale dropped the phone, slapping at it uselessly as it fell and nearly ending the call. Holy water! Crowley wanted Holy water _again?_ After all the heartbreak and immense ethical debate that took Aziraphale most of a century to reconcile and left him second guessing himself and in a state of low-grade terror over what Crowley would use it for… The bloody thermos of Holy water was finally gone and Crowley wanted _another_ one?! His heart was hammering in his chest, thundering in his ears. He felt faint. He felt furious. He caught the phone and brought it back to his ear, seething.

“When I get my hands on that snake—”

**__________**

“Fuck! You’re going to kill me!” Crowley cried. He arched his back until he was suspended by his heels and the top of his head, his mouth open in a silent scream as the pleasure mounted and then he collapsed to the sheets again with a moan that was half whimper at this point and came for the fifth time this morning.

“Hah… enough… I… I…” he panted, pleading for mercy. “I think I might need to break for water or somethin’.”

“You might be right,” Anthony grinned, crawling back up his body. “Didn’t get much out of you at all that time.”

Crowley tried to laugh but didn’t have the breath for it yet. Anthony hadn’t been joking about wanting to practice Crowley’s technique and the results had been… stunning.

“Wottaya think?” Anthony asked, nuzzling into his neck. “Am I ready to try it out on the angel?”

“Wots an angel?” Crowley joked weakly.

——————-

"Hopefully they're getting along," Zira continued. "Crowley was very upset when I left."

"Wait... _your_ Crowley or mine?" Aziraphale asked, wondering if it was acceptable for him to have something stronger than tea yet. 

"Mine," Zira sighed, frustrated as well. "I know. It's cumbersome. In any case, I'm optimistic that my Crowley will get a handle on the situation."

"The situation… being _my_ Crowley?"

" _Your_ Crowley, if he was indeed asking for Holy water — and I'm hoping he wasn't— is in a darker place than we thought so _yes_ . He should be _handled_."

Aziraphale made a mournful sound and summoned himself a glass of port, time of day be damned. He had no idea Crowley was suffering so. How could he have failed his dearest friend so badly?

"I just don't understand. He was happily upsetting my shelving system just yesterday morning! How could he be suicidal _now."_

"Well, I don't know that he is," Zira explained. "Depressed, certainly, and likely always will be if _my_ Crowley is any indication. But the Holy water is likely just something to put his mind at ease. To know he has a way out if he needs one someday. Crowley can be absolutely maddeningly obsessive about his hypotheticals."

Aziraphale sighed and nodded. He knew this about Crowley and it did make a bit of sense, but he still wasn't comforted.

"What will it take for him to be truly happy?" Aziraphale muttered. "Is he even capable of it?"

"The trouble with being a demon is they're so bloody cynical," Zira sighed. "Accepting things like love and safety is extremely difficult for them. And trying to discuss feelings might as well be an act of torture!"

**———-**

"He's just so sssoft, you know?" Crowley sniffed. Anthony hmmmmed his agreement. They were both back in snake form hanging out together in the steam from the running shower. The tile was warm and wet and vapour felt delicious on his scales. At some point they had slithered together into a morose heap and Crowley had begun to wax melancholic about his Aziraphale.

"You'd almost think he's a cartoon, he's sssso good and pure. And fluffy. His hair is like cotton. I just want to put my face in it."

"So put your face in it," Anthony suggested, twisting around in the coil so he could see Crowley better. "Wot'sss the worst that could happen?"

"Tha's stupid. You're stupid," Crowley grumbled. "Asking wot's the worssst a Principality could do to a shite demon like me. Smite me for one. Never talk to me again more like. That would be worssse"

"It would," Anthony agreed sadly. "No point going on without the angel."

"I missed him ssso much," Crowley moaned into the steam before sliding his head under Anthony's. 

————-

"It isn't as though I _miss_ him," Aziraphale mentioned quickly. "I mean, I saw him just yesterday so that would be rather silly. I'm just… I suppose I'm concerned about how he's doing. Maybe we should just go ahead and try summoning me anyway."

Zira was quiet again for a long time and it made Aziraphale feel judged. He waved away the port as if in fear the other angel would know he had it.

"Do you love him?" Zira asked quietly.

"Of course I do!' Aziraphale cried, exasperated.

"I don't mean as 'a dear friend' or any other platonic sense. Do you love your demon, _romantically_ ," Zira pressed. Aziraphale felt his cheeks burn. This was terribly personal and he didn't like it.

"I don't see what this has to do with my question," Aziraphale chided, trying to change the subject back to Crowley's ill mental health and getting Aziraphale to him as soon as possible. _That_ was what was important.

"Good Lord, you _must_ sort your feelings out!" Zira grumbled. "No wonder Red is such a mess! Can you at least admit to yourself that you want to fuck him?"

Aziraphale gasped and had a mind to ring off immediately. "Why do you _insist_ on asking me these ridiculous questions?"

"Because your Crowley has convinced himself that you are incapable of loving him. He's worried you kissed him because you're under a spell for Christ’s sake!."

Aziraphale blinked and mulled that over. "Incapable?"

"Of loving him. Because he's a demon," Zira pressed. "Is he right?"

"No, of course not. I don't care that he's a demon. He's a better person than some _angels!"_

"Only you told me just last night that you couldn't possibly bed him _because he's a demon_ ," Zira pointed out dryly and Aziraphale sulked. He _had_ said that and now felt hoist with his own petard.

"I suppose I say things I feel I _ought_ to say, rather than what is… strictly _true_ ," Aziraphale admitted.

"So, when you said you wanted to watch while I tied your Crowley up, gagged him, and drove him completely spare with pleasure until he was ready to obey your command, was that to humour me or was it the truth?"

Aziraphale nearly dropped the phone again. "I… "

"I'm sorry to put you on the spot, but I'm afraid I took you quite seriously. With Red — _your Crowley_ — under the impression that you're uninterested in anything more than friendship, I'm afraid we could really hurt him by continuing."

"Oh?" Aziraphale fretted.

"If I tell him that you love him, that you _want_ him, and you arrive and say otherwise, that you're at best his friend because he's _just a demon_ , then yes, Aziraphale. That will do real lasting damage so please, _please_ , don't do that."

—————-

Crowley licked his split lip and spit the blood toward Anthony before ducking the next strike. If he weren't a demon that would definitely have left a mark!

"Say it again," Anthony challenged. "I bloody dare you to."

"Right," Crowley jeered. "Your angel is a bloody great slu— " he cut off with a yipe as Anthony lobbed a small potted ficus at him. The plant met its fate, smashed against the wall behind him. "Oi! You _told_ me to say it!" he cackled, retreating into the hall.

"You've no right to disparage my husband just because you and your angel are so bloody repressed you wouldn't know what to do with a cock if you—"

"Oh no no no," Crowley wagged his finger, still backing up as Anthony advanced on him. "No lies between Crowleys, mate. You know full well I know _exactly_ what to do with a cock. I had you screaming for your angel!" Crowley punctuated his argument by hefting the nearby quartz egg and pitching it at the other demon, smacking him hard in the chest.

"Ow! Fuck!"

"Yeah! Tha's what ya get for filling your bloody cottage with useless sodding knickknacks!" Crowley barked. "And you'd probably have more of a say about it if you weren't so busy bending over for your _master_ , you stupid— Ss _shhit!"_

Anthony lunged at him, hissing, and they both fell painfully down the wooden stairs.

—————

"I think you just need to be honest with yourself before you see him and get flustered," Zira suggested gently. "You shouldn't feel pressured into anything you find uncomfortable, but Crowley deserves to know where he stands with you."

"I know you're right," Aziraphale groaned. "I've been playing it safe for so long. I suppose it is a difficult habit to break."

"If you could have what you wanted without fear of judgement or recrimination. If it was just magically perfect. What would you wish for?" Zira asked quietly.

Aziraphale fell silent and thought about it.

"Don't overthink it," Zira warned. "Off the top of your head. You see Crowley again. He wants the same as you. What is it?"

**————-**

"Just to… eeuuugghhh, bless it. Just to _be_ with him, I guess," Crowley muttered. He took a pull and passed the blunt back to Anthony. 

The two of them were lying under Anthony's pear tree at the side of the cottage and getting nicely high. To say the garden was impressive would be an understatement of epic proportions. This was thirty years of dedicated plant terrorism and it showed.

"Issit _really_ all you want though?" Anthony asked. "I mean, ' _being with him'_ , is a pretty broad spectrum, yeah?"

Crowley shrugged. "No good to want too much. Bad luck."

"Right," Anthony blew out the smoke in different geometric shapes. 

"Won't be easy, mind," Crowley continued, accepting the blunt back. "Mmmn... not gonna say I won't wish for more. But… I just don't see it working out any other way. Not for a long time anyway."

"But you _want_ it to?" Anthony prodded and Crowley shrugged.

"Never much mattered wot I wanted, did it?"

**————-**

"What I _want,_ is to have the strength, the _confidence_ , to hold that wiry demon still and kiss him within an inch of his life," Aziraphale murmured. "I want to hold him to me and feel all the little jagged pieces of him fold back into place and mend. I want him to smile and laugh and mean it. I want it to come easily to him. I want him to look at me without fear."

"Is Crowley _afraid_ of you?" Zira asked, surprised.

"Afraid _for_ me, more like," Aziraphale sighed. "Always circling, looking over his shoulder. I'm a Principality, for God's sake, and he acts like I'm this fragile thing he has to protect."

"Ah, well…" Zira coughed. "That might just be an immutable part of their nature. Mine is much the same in public. Suspicious of everyone and everything."

"But Crowley does it here in the shop!" Aziraphale complained. "What is going to attack us in the _bookshop_? A rabid bottle of Pinot? One of the Jane Eyre misprints?"

**—————**

"You _better_ run, you ginger _Shit!'_ Anthony shouted behind him. Crowley snickered as he sped across the meadow with Anthony in hot pursuit. It had started as a wrestling match in the garden, Anthony's fight to determine who would top and it wasn't going Crowley's way, forcing the demon to say do something truly desperate.

_"Your mock orange is gorgeous", he said loudly, making Anthony's eyes go wide with fury. "You must be so proud!" Crowley spat out, hating himself. Anthony immediately flew into a tirade against the massive shrubbery, dividing his attention and lending Crowley the opportunity to wriggle free and make a break for it._

Fast forward to him speeding across the heath, managing to outpace the other demon on the straightaway but horribly aware that he was without a plan, didn’t know the area well, and was bound to run out of breath shortly. Anthony knew it too judging by the jeering behind him.

“You’re only making it harder on yourself, Red,” he sounded a bit further behind than before but Crowley didn’t spare a glance back to check. He kept his pace, felt a second wind coming and laughed loudly right until he tripped over a foxhole and went arse over tit into the grass. He rolled, spitting soil and tried to scrabble back to his feet and almost made it too before Anthony tackled him with a victorious shout of glee and sent him back into the long grass.

“Told ya so,” Anthony sniggered, breathing heavily against Crowley’s throat. Crowley tried to ignore what the sound, along with the way his breath blew across his damp skin and the endorphins from the chase were doing to him. He tried. He did.

“Mmn...ffff,” he struggled lamely, pushing Anthony off him and scooting back just to have his ankles caught and be dragged back under the other demon. 

“S’good, issn’t it? The chase,” Anthony panted, licking up the side of his neck and causing Crowley to collapse bonelessly under him. I was _very good._

“Fuck…” Crowley groaned. “Hurry.”

“Yeah?”

“Need it! Hurry,” Crowley gasped, grabbing Anthony by the front of the shirt and pulling him firmly down into a messy kiss.

**————**

“Who knows what they’re up to, really?” Zira sighed. “Two Crowleys? Honestly I’m somewhat terrified for the village.”

“You think they’re up to no good then,” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Oh, almost certainly.”

**————**

“Hurry hurry hurry,” Crowley chanted, pulling at Anthony’s flies.

“Anyone tell you you’re a demanding bottom?” Anthony teased, nipping Crowley’s lower lip. Crowley thrust his hands over Anthony’s narrow hips and rolled them, grinning down at the dark haired demon.

“Who said I was bottoming?” he smirked, yanking Anthony’s trousers down past his knees. Anthony gasped at the shock of grass against his bare arse and then groaned as Crowley took him firmly in hand with slow strokes. Crowley could tell by the demon’s breathing that he was trying to rally, telegraphing his next move, so the redhead was prepared when Anthony tried to roll them again, and braced with his knee, sending Anthony back down with a defeated whine that was more pride than true disappointment.

“Mmmm, I think I have this one,” Crowley smiled, running his lips lightly along Anthony’s jaw.

“I… think maybe you have this one,” Anthony agreed.

**__________**

Aziraphale forwent the port after all but only in favour of stronger spirits. He'd been speaking with this other version of himself for a couple hours and arguing for another quarter hour so it was well past noon and he was also well past caring. His cheeks were burning more than the Scotch.

"You have to answer," Zira scolded him. 

"I don't, in fact," Aziraphale countered, taking another healthy gulp of whiskey.

"Then you might as well ring off because I'm disinclined to move beyond the subject until you can explain to me _why_ you would ever _willingly_ abandon Crowley!"

"You are twisting my words!" Aziraphale spluttered, indignant. "I certainly wouldn't do so _willingly."_

"You just said you'd considered leaving him _here!"_ Zira sounded outraged and Aziraphale wished he'd held his tongue.

"Only because _you_ considered _keeping_ him as the best course!" 

"I said it was preferable to Crowley drinking a shot of _Holy water!"_ Zira shouted. Aziraphale really didn't like being shouted at. 

"I thought your assessment was that Crowley only wanted the Holy water as hypothetical means of eventual escape," he responded bitterly. "But you have, _non-hypothetically_ , discussed inviting Crowley to stay.”

"I privately offered the suggestion to _my_ Crowley to calm him down," Zira growled. "My husband was distraught. He feared Red's intentions were more imminent than I believe them to be. It certainly isn't either of our _Plan A_. Honestly! Listen to yourself!"

"But what if he would be happier there with you?!" Aziraphale cried. "I've said dreadfully cruel things to him. I've evidently convinced him he's unlovable. He has safety and comfort with you. I don't even know if I could bring him pleasure!"

There was an awkward silence and Aziraphale slumped in his seat, deeply saddened.

"If it is the sex that you're afraid of then we can forget all about it," Zira offered, more gently. "You're perfectly allowed to have changed your mind, you know."

"Er…" Aziraphale's mind stuttered at the mention of sex and he began blushing again. "I'm not afraid of sex. I've _had_ sex," Aziraphale assured his counterpart.

"Did you not enjoy it?" Zira asked, sounding confused.

"I…" Aziraphale felt his cheeks might burst from blushing so badly. "I _enjoyed_ it… but I've never done anything that requires ropes and knots!"

"I don't see the problem," Zira takes, impatiently. "I only sent you that list because you seemed to be interested but if it is bothering you then we can slow down."

**—————-**

"Faster! Faster!" Anthony gasped, throwing his arms out to the side to brace himself, tearing up handfuls of dry grass. Crowley gritted his teeth and snapped his hips. He’d meant to keep a slow pace. Slow and firm, with that build up that pulls you along until you’re soaring. He meant to, he wanted to but _— uhnf— shit!_ He just didn’t have the self control! Anthony was hot and tight and responsive and before Crowley knew it he was speeding to the finish line unaware of exactly when this had become a fucking race! Anthony cried out for faster, for harder, and Crowley delivered, grabbing the other demon’s cock and stroking him as he added another bite mark to the collection growing on Anthony’s neck and chest. 

“Faster! Hah hah Harder Fah- AH!” Anthony jerked wildly under him, his legs gripping Crowley’s back and pulling him in deeper as the raven-haired demon came. His spend spilled between them, as Crowley fucked him through his orgasm, drops of it sliding down his cheek and chin as he sank his teeth into Anthony’s chest again. He licked his lips, the salt of his release mixed with the salt of his skin and he moaned brokenly as he crashed into his counterpart one more time before surrendering to the pleasure himself. 

He collapsed on top of the demon who managed a faint “ _oof_ ” of complaint and not much else. He could feel Anthony’s heart hammering away in his chest and wondered if it beat with the same tempo as his own. 

“I… I meant that to last longer…” Crowley groaned, trying to catch his breath. 

“Yeah, I know what y’mean,” Anthony chuckled weakly. “S’like I know what I want… what I _need_ for it to be jus’ perfect and yet…”

“Right,” Crowley nodded. “Yeh, the _wanting_ takes over and it just… bang!” 

“Good bang though,” Anthony smirked, patting Crowley’s back.

“Mmmm,” Crowley agreed. “But not as ssssatisfying.”

“Don’t fall asleep, ok?” Anthony poked him and Crowley hissed half-heartedly. “C’mon. Get your kit together and let's get back. Got some energy drinks in the pantry. Need some electrolytes, I think.”

**________**

“It’s a health and safety issue!” Aziraphale laughed and Zira giggled on the other end of the line. “I’m terrified I’ll get overzealous and discorporate the fellow!”

“Well yes, _obviously don’t do that!”_ Zira snorted and laughed again. “You are clearly overthinking this, you know. I am positive you don’t need to start with anything that would cause Crowley to actually _expire.”_

“I suppose,” Aziraphale snickered. This really was much easier to discuss now that he was liberally sauced. He poured some more Scotch. “Oh, and I _would_ like to see him trussed up. That would be a sight. You’re sure he would enjoy it?”

“Reasonably sure,” Zira responded. “Mine certainly does. It actually seems to calm him when he's high up in his own head. He likes to be firmly put in his body and just made to feel what I want him to feel.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped at a shock of arousal. “I like that. _What I want him to feel_.”

“What do you want Crowley to feel, Aziraphale?” Zira’s voice seemed more thoughtful now, and it occurred to Aziraphale that the other angel was a) quite sober, and b) working towards a point, but as Aziraphale himself was plastered and pointless he didn’t much care.

“I want… I want him…”

“Do you?”

“Oh Yes! Desperately!” Aziraphale gesticulated wildly, nearly spilling his drink. “I do. But… But… I want him to know he’s wanted. I want him to feel… so good. Because he is really. He’s good, you know. Deep down.”

“Not so deep down, really,” Zira countered lightly and Aziraphale seized that argument like it was his own.

“Exactly right!” he exclaimed. “That’s my point exactly! He’s good _not so deep_ down. Just a good _good_ demon-person and he won’t let me say it!”

“Well, if you get your knots right he has no choice but to let you say it,” Zira laughed.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, just realizing what that meant. “Oh! _OH!_ I could make him shut up and listen to me?”

“Well, you might need a _gag_ as well then but —”

“Oh, I could tell him and he’d have to hear it… and he’d know how much I need him. How much I adore him…” Aziraphale was finally really seeing the appeal of the ropes. There had been something about the control he’d been drawn to at first. It had felt so strangely right, as if he was learning a truth about himself that had always been there, hidden under all his flustered eagerness to please everyone else over himself. He’d taken to the idea so quickly and fully that it had frightened him back into his shell of propriety. 

“It’s how we got started actually,” Zira told him. “Found it out by accident one day when Crowley was being particularly intransigent and self-destructive. He’d frightened me and I honestly thought if he left my sight in that mood he’d harm himself.”

“Oh God,” Aziraphale whispered and decided to sober up a bit, knowing this confession of Zira’s was important and not wishing to miss it.

“I was desperate and snatched him up by his tie and pulled him to his knees in front of me. I confess I overpowered him while he struggled but something happened when I used my sash to bind his wrists and he pressed his head into my hands and stilled. There wasn’t any sex at all the first time I tied him up. I just spoke to him. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale blinked. “And he let you?”

“He could have gotten free easily if he chose to,” Zira chuckled. “It was an act of desperation on my part but something about it made it easier for Crowley to hear me. And of course… later he confessed he’d been thinking about it and it rather turned him on so we tried it again for less altruistic purposes.”

Aziraphale blushed again, but didn’t feel the same self-recrimination he had earlier for being interested.

“You’ve sobered up,” Zira noticed. He didn’t sound judgmental about it though so Aziraphale tried not to feel too embarrassed. He was about to say something in his defense anyway when Zira cut him off. “You said that you adored Crowley. Do you remember saying that?”

“Er…” He did. “Yes.”

“Will you remember it later?” Zira asked.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Will you tell him?” Zira continued and, really, it was just nagging at this point.

“I’d like to say yes, but we both know I’m a bit of a coward,” Aziraphale scolded his counterpart in a huff.

“Actually,” Zira argued, and Aziraphale could _hear_ his smile. “We both know that you’re _not_.”

**__________**

The sun had set by the time Anthony and Crowley stumbled their way back into the garden behind the cottage. They had gotten distracted on the way back from their romp in the grass and decided to forgo electrolytes in favour of going to the local pub. That turned out to be one of their better ideas and they stayed there, drinking and laughing and singing Queen until the management rudely insisted this wasn’t a karaoke bar and all but tossed them out on their ears.

Feeling robbed of their plans, the demons decided the best thing to do would be to sneak around the back and help themselves to as many bottles as they could carry, which after some hasty buttoning up of jackets, turned out to be about seven bottles each.

“S’good day!” Anthony declared, tossing his empty bottle at the mock orange before opening another one. 

“T’wasss,” Crowley agreed. “Yep.”

“Sorry I beat you up and threw you down the stairs,” Anthony drawled. 

“Ennnngh, I insulted t’ angel and threw an egg at you,” Crowley shrugged. “S’bad form.”

They looked at each other for a moment before dissolving into the loud gasping laughter of the truly inebriated.

“Are you sssstill needing ...surents _— blimey—_ insurantsss?” Anthony asked. “Fucking _Holy water?_ ”

“Ugh,” Crowley dropped his beer and covered his face with his hands. The bottle landed on the lawn beside him and emptied itself into his jacket. “I don’t… No. I don’t want it anymore. Not sure I ever really did. Just… M’tired of being alone, you know?”

“Neh,” Anthony shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t. Always had my angel.”

“Yeh,” Crowley’s eyes narrowed a bit at the reminder. He glared at the mock orange he’d complimented earlier. “Wot’re you looking at, you fruity smelling shit-weed?”

“Yeah, fuck you, you glorified fucking lilac,” Anthony piled on.

“ _Mock_ Mock-orange, more like,” Crowley hissed, patting around for his bottle and trying to figure out why it was more than half empty. He shrugged and took another swig.

“You can come back here, you know,” Anthony muttered and Crowley looked over at him, completely confused. “If you ever felt really alone again. You could come back here. We’d… We’d want you to come back here.” Anthony didn’t look at him when he said it and there was a bit more colour in his cheeks. Crowley stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. Anthony grumbled, misinterpreting Crowley’s stare as incomprehension. “You wanted assurances that you had an escape. You have one. You come back here and Zira and I take care of you if your angel won’t. Don’t be a gobshite about it. Fuck.”

“Right,” Crowley nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Anthony agreed. “Good.”

“I need to sober up,” Crowley groaned. “Head’s startin’ to hurt and I’m wet for some reason.”

“Yeh, all right,” Anthony sighed. They willed the alcohol back into the bottles and Crowley sat up, wringing beer out of his jacket and waistcoat with a grimace. Anthony smirked at him and waved his hand over the sodden material, leaving it clean and dry. “Should we go in? Zira’s probably wondering if we’ve killed each other?”

“Shit! Y’think he’s home?” Crowley winced. “We kinda left a bit of a mess inside.”

“We?” Anthony snorted. “No no. Not we. _You_ left a mess.”

“You definitely contributed to the mess,” Crowley argued. “I distinctly remember you throwing a ficus at me.”

“You’re mistaken,” Anthony grinned, heading inside. Crowley glared at the other’s demon back and he followed him. Sure enough Zira was, indeed, home. He puttered around the kitchen as they came in the back door and fixed them both with an icy blue stare.

“Angel!” Anthony purred with a _please-don’t-be-mad_ grin. “How was your day?”

“Productive,” Zira took up the kettle and filled the teapot. “As I imagine yours must have been given the state of this place.”

“Well, as you astutely pointed out yesterday, Red is absolutely feral,” Anthony snickered. Crowley snorted. He ended up under the bus quicker than anticipated. 

“If you’re done tearing my home apart perhaps you both might be so kind as to bring this into the sitting room while I wash up?”

Anthony picked up the tray with the teapot and cups after motioning for Crowley to grab the tin of shortbreads. They both muttered quick, somewhat sincere apologies to Zira and headed into the sitting room. Crowley looked over his shoulder at the angel as he left the kitchen and Zira smiled back at him mischievously. Crowley felt distinctly uneasy at that. He turned back to ask Anthony about it and walked right into the demon instead.

“Oi,” he complained, dropping the tin. What kind of twit just stood in the middle of the bloody doorway holding a tray of hot tea. _Idiot_ . Crowley bent to retrieve the tin and glared at the demon who continued to ignore him and gape at — _shit!_ — at the other person in the room!

They stood up from the sofa, twisting the hem of their waistcoat in their perfectly manicured fingers. Crowley let his breath out all at once and nearly fell over in complete shock.

“Angel.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. Next chapter will go into how Aziraphale gets to Bookland


	9. The Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has made it across, and now everyone sits down and calmly discusses their feelings and desires and lol- just kidding! They're all idiots!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is a bit talky and borderline angsty (I tried to tone it down) but hear me out! All four of them are full of complicated feelings and this whole situations is batshit bananas, so there's bound to be some missteps and miscommunication at first and the Crowleys fighting honestly doesn't mean anything at this point. That's just what they do. Better to get all that uncomfortableness out of the way so they can get down to brass tacks next chapter.

Aziraphale had squeezed his eyes shut, praying not to be discorporated when he opened them again. Every fiber of his being was tight with fear and excitement and he wasn’t quite sure how to unclench once the dizzying sense of free-falling through  _ somewhere _ faded. So he stayed very still, his knuckles tucked against his teeth, his knees pressed together to keep from buckling no matter how they shook. He didn’t move a muscle even as his senses started to register being someplace new. 

There was the smell of woodsmoke and the sound of a cheery hearthfire. It felt warm and lovely although there was a high pitched “Eeeeee” sound that was most annoying. It cut off abruptly once Aziraphale realized it was coming from  _ him! _ Embarrassment made him pop his eyes open and he saw at once that he was standing in a comfortable little cottage sitting room with Zira staring at him wide-eyed with a complex expression of delight and concern.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out a steadying hand. It clasped solidly on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He wasn’t a projection any longer. Aziraphale had made it across! 

“I am!” he exclaimed, feeling overwhelmingly chuffed at their mutual success. “We did it! We pulled it off!”

“Take that, logical universe!” Zira laughed, pantomiming socking someone. Aziraphale’s grin became somewhat strained at that. He’d always been a big fan of logic and felt somewhat guilty about this betrayal.

“Well, this will surprise the Crowleys, won’t it?” Zira continued, giving Aziraphale a conspiratorial wink and cheering him up once more.

“Pleasantly, I hope,” he smiled, finally taking in his surroundings. The room was lined with bookshelves and the windows were filled with beautiful plants. It felt exquisitely homey.

“This calls for a celebratory toast, but it will have to wait until the blasted demons come back from wherever they’ve run off to,” Zira was saying. “I’ll bring out some tea and biscuits instead. Please have a seat and take a moment to collect yourself. That must have been harrowing.”

Aziraphale gratefully collapsed into the stylish sofa and began the labourious process of trying to relax as Zira tinkered away in the nearby kitchen.

There was something special about his place that soothed him though. Everywhere he looked he saw something of himself, or something of Crowley. This was their home and it was astonishing to see how seamlessly it fit together into a perfectly beautiful blend. It made him feel gloriously happy and horribly heartsick at the same time. He had fought this. He had fought his feelings for Crowley, denied their existence to himself and to the demon over and over again. This comfortable home that he didn’t realize he’d been wanting. 

He had been so afraid Crowley wouldn’t want to come back to his world, but now that Aziraphale was here, he wasn’t sure  _ he  _ wanted to leave.

He looked back toward the kitchen when he heard a door open. The demonic presence that filled that room was unmistakable… and doubled. Aziraphale’s heart began to race.

“Angel! How was your day?” A cheery voice drawled. Same accent. So very similar.  _ He calls Zira ‘Angel’. _

“Productive,” he heard Zira reply. “As I imagine yours must have been given the state of this place.”

Aziraphale glanced around the room. It looked to be perfectly in order to  _ him _ . It wasn’t even nearly as dusty as he kept his shop and he had to admit only half the disorder there was intentionally done to dissuade customers from lingering.

“Well, as you astutely pointed out yesterday, Red is absolutely feral,” the other demon was saying.  _ Red _ . They called Crowley  _ Red. _ They were talking about his Crowley with such familiarity. He’d only been gone a day! Aziraphale had only been left behind for a day!

“If you’re done tearing my home apart perhaps you both might be so kind as to bring this into the sitting room while I wash up?” 

Aziraphale stifled an alarmed squeak with his hand. Zira really did want to surprise them. He was sending them in now? Like this? Without warning? Oh no  _ no no no! _ Aziraphale needed much more time. He should have thought this out more first before agreeing to come here. He wasn’t ready to face—

The demon was grinning mischievously as he brought the tea tray through the door to the sitting room. He stopped abruptly, frozen in surprise when he noticed Aziraphale. There was something about the demon’s distress that eased some of Aziraphale’s. He smiled, despite his anxiety because this really was—somehow—  _ Crowley _ .

He was certainly also the other man from the aquarium footage in last night’s news broadcast. Same nicely tailored black suit trousers. His wine-red shirt and black necktie seemed to be the reverse of yesterday’s ensemble and the suit jacket was missing, but those smart black glasses were the same, as was his smirk. He was a bit shorter than his demon, and his olive complexion and raven-black hair made him all-together darker than Crowley, but, well… this  _ was Crowley. _

And then the tall, flame-haired collection-of-limbs Aziraphale loved slunk into the room looking over his shoulder until he bashed right into the Crowley in front of him. He dropped a tin of biscuits and swore a blue streak until he too noticed Aziraphale and froze, a near mirror of his counterpart. 

Aziraphale swallowed hard and stood, wishing, as he always did, that he could see Crowley’s eyes.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed.

“Surprise,” Aziraphale shrugged, grinning sheepishly. Crowley made an incomprehensible sound and flung the tin down on the tea tray, causing the other demon to lurch out of his stupour in order to re-balance the tray. Crowley was standing in front of Aziraphale in an instead, patting him down frantically as if checking to see if he had all his limbs.

“Fires below, Angel! Are you all right?” the demon yelped, giving up his inspection to grab Aziraphale by his overcoat and give him a little shake. “You daft lunatic! What are you doing here? You could have been killed! Speak to me! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Crowley!” Aziraphale assured him, freeing himself from the demon’s grasp. “And I wasn’t in any danger. We knew exactly what we were doing.

That was a terrible lie, but Aziraphale couldn’t stand to wait a single day more. It may have been dangerous and fool-hearty but it had worked and that was all that mattered.

“Blimey,” the other demon set his tray down on the table and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead to stare wide-eyed at Aziraphale. His eyes were a slightly lighter topaz to Crowley’s honey gold but still enchantingly beautiful. The demon slowly joined them, those serpent eyes drinking Aziraphale in, tip to toe and back again with a pleased grin. Aziraphale felt himself blush at the attention, and then again at  _ this  _ Crowley’s apparent lack of personal space. The demon leaned in close to Aziraphale and sniffed loudly. Aziraphale shuffled backwards in surprise.

“Excuse me?” he faltered, flustered by the intense feelings of having two Crowleys so close to him.

“You’re right, Red,” the darker demon grinned. “Smells just like him. So bloody weird.”

“Yeh,” Crowley shrugged and looked nervous. “Uh… might wanna tone down the sniffing though. Don’t think he’s enjoyin’ it.”

The dark-haired demon flicked his eyes to Crowley and back to Aziraphale and frowned a little, straightening his lanky body and letting the glasses drop back into place. He thrust his hands into his pockets (such a familiar gesture, that) and took a polite step back. Aziraphale realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out slowly. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the demon smiled and offered his hand. “Anthony J. Crowley. Glad to finally make your acquaintance.” 

“Likewise,” Aziraphale nodded, accepting the handshake. “As you already know, I’m Aziraphale. Forgive my nerves. I’m not used to traveling to parallel universes.”

“You’re  _ sure _ you’re all right?” Crowley repeated, circling him now. Aziraphale sighed and fought not to roll his eyes. Fortunately his counterpart arrived to save him from Crowley’s fussing.

“Have neither of you offered the poor angel some tea yet?” he scolded, going to the tray himself. “Honestly. I know you’re both demons but there’s no call to be rude.”

Zira poured a cup of tea, added a dash of milk and a single drop of honey. He gave it a quick stir before placing it on the saucer with a biscuit and bringing it to Aziraphale. He stopped behind his Crowley, placing his free hand gently on the demon’s shoulder as he passed the tea over. The poor demon between them went beat red all of a sudden and let out a strange little whimper.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale frowned. “You don’t look well. You should sit down, I think.”

“What is it, darling?” Zira asked his husband (husband!), looking worried.

“Mmn. S’nothin. Jussssst…” he shook his head as if to clear it. He took his glasses off then and looked adorably bashful. “Two Aziraphale’s…” he groaned, and the lascivious look he gave Aziraphale spoke volumes about how he felt about his presence here.

“Careful.”

The warning came as a growl from just behind Aziraphale. Both Zira and the darker Crowley gave the other demon a speculative look but didn’t seem particularly threatened. A warm hand closed over Aziraphale’s shoulder and part of the angel thrilled at the protective gesture while the rest of him was annoyed and found it possessive instead. Clearly these two weren’t a threat to either of them, and if Crowley had really wanted Aziraphale to himself he shouldn’t have run off the other day, now should he?

“Careful yourself,” the dark haired demon hissed. “Where do you get off acting all jealous now when just this morning you were moaning with  _ my _ angel hip deep inside you?”

The accusation landed like a slap on everyone in the room. Aziraphale met Zira’s gaze and saw the other angel flush with embarrassment. Aziraphale felt a similar heat grace his own cheeks at the image, although he had sense enough to recognize it as equal measures of humiliation, regret, and arousal. Crowley—  _ his Crowley _ — snapped his hand off Aziraphale’s shoulder as if he’d been burned. 

Aziraphale turned finally to look at his demon to find that all the colour had drained out of his face. He looked so hurt and frightened as he backed away, it nearly broke the angel’s heart. He opened his mouth to tell him it was all right, to tell him that he’d agreed to all this. He’d even given the other angel rules. He wasn’t angry. He  _ meant  _ to tell him that but no sound came out.

Crowley slouched in on himself and hissed sullenly. "M'glad you made it over all right, Aziraphale," the demon muttered.

Aziraphale could hear the pain under the bitter tone. He'd known Crowley long enough to recognize that at least. Once again Aziraphale tried to comfort him and failed to even make a sound. He was just so confused by it all. There were so many contradictory feelings all at once and he felt overwhelmed and exhausted by them all. His throat was tight, his voice strangled by pride even as his heart burst with love.

"It's uh… I guess we should figure out how we get back now, eh?" Crowley suggested, looking at his feet.

"We can discuss it," Zira sighed. "However we won't be able to do much tonight. It will take time to teach you both what you need to do and I'd imagine … Aziraphale — _ Lord this is odd _ — is quite tired from his journey."

Aziraphale did feel tired, but nothing a bit of calm wouldn't fix. Unfortunately, judging by the way both Crowleys were brooding and the cold look Zira tossed at his demon, Aziraphale strongly doubted calm was on the horizon. 

"Right, fine," the darker demon grumbled. He flicked his topaz eyes up at Aziraphale and he flashed a quick embarrassed grin before looking away off to the side. It was a look Aziraphale had received from his own demon many times over the years. It was often what Crowley offered in lieu of an apology and Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a little charmed, despite all the awkwardness. "Maybe Red should show you to the guest room," the demon suggested.

"Erm," Crowley shuffled and looked confused. "D'you have  _ another  _ guest room? I never exactly got the tour, y'know."

"You're right!" Zira gasped. "I'm sorry. What a terribly rude oversight."

"Just the  _ one  _ guestroom, Red," the demon smirked. "I think you can probably find it."

  
  


**————----**

  
  
  


"Sorry 'bout Anthony," Crowley muttered as he opened the door to the guest room and immediately set the room to rights with a quick miracle before letting Aziraphale in. He thought about his angel taking a kip on that bed and hastily changed the sheets another three times just to be safe. Aziraphale stood in the doorway looking glum. Crowley was desperately trying not to panic. 

"They're harmless," he assured him. "They're just… mmnnneuugh… shit, I dunno. They've got a different level of comfort with each other than what we're used to."

"Well, I should say so," Aziraphale agreed. "They're  _ married _ , after all."

"Yyyyeaaahh..." Crowley nodded and changed the sheets again.

" _ That _ was a bit of a shock," Aziraphale laughed weakly.

"Right?" Crowley smiled, feeling ill.

"I never would have imagined!" Aziraphale exclaimed.

"Course," Crowley agreed lightly, considering jumping out the window. With any luck he'd crash into the mock orange and do at least as much damage to the smug shrub as he'd do to himself.

"They've treated you well?" Aziraphale asked and Crowley winced. It could have been an innocently polite question and yet it felt loaded with incendiary ammunition. 

"Yep," he nodded before changing the subject. "You can take the bed, if you like. Put your head down for a bit—"

"No, I wouldn't think of it. After All I don't enjoy sleeping nearly as much as you so…" Aziraphale walked over to the overstuffed chair by the window (blocking Crowley's escape) and patted it. "This will do nicely for me."

"Uhhmm, you wanna sit in that chair?"

"Why not?" Aziraphale asked suspiciously.

Crowley looked at the bed. "You want me to sleep here and what, you'll watch me sleep? Bit creepy, innit?"

"For Heaven's sake, Crowley," I could read or…"

"Or?" Crowley bit the inside of his cheek, his heart racing.

"We could…" Aziraphale hesitated. He looked frightened. "We could share it? The bed, I mean. We could sleep...er, together."

"Ngk, Wot?" Crowley squeaked, collapsing to the bed as his knees failed. "You just said you don't like t' sleep and—"

"I don't, generally," Aziraphale nodded, looking at the floor and blushing furiously. "We… we could…"

It was like watching a disaster unfold before him in slow motion. Aziraphale looked so uncomfortable. He wouldn't even look Crowley in the eye and yet he'd suggest sharing a bed?

"Angel, you don't have t'be anything but yourself, you know," he told the flustered angel. " _ They're _ the way they are 'cause their history was different from ours. You don't have to pretend to want that."

"Pretend?" Aziraphale scoffed. "They're happy! Why wouldn't I want \—"

"I just don't want you to feel pressured to—"

"Did they pressure  _ you?" _ Aziraphale snapped and Crowley shut his mouth. "You met that demon and immediately started a campaign of chaos and got yourself abducted to another reality! And you…" Aziraphale flushed again, and lowered his voice. "I understand you did a fair bit more than fraternize with your counterpart from what  _ Zira _ has told me."

Crowley was cold. "Wot'sss your point?" he hissed. "Imma demon, remember? No depravity too depraved."

"Except me?" Aziraphale asked, coldly. "Am I so contemptible to you that you'd rather lie with  _ yourself  _ than kiss me?"

Crowley stared at the angel trying to figure out where the conversation had become so badly twisted. However, Aziraphale was fully in a snit now and Crowley apparently hadn't heard the end of it.

"It mustn't be my angelic nature that repulsed you so," Aziraphale sniffed. "Not if you let my counterpart _ hip deep in you". _

Damn it, Anthony!

“It seems like it’s done you some good, at least,” Aziraphale grumbled. “You look nice.”

“Uh,” Crowley was suffering a bit of psychological whiplash. “Thanks?”

“You’re nails. They’re not usually so glossy”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale in surprise.  _ He noticed my  _ **_nails?_ ** How to explain the lacquer in a way that wouldn’t make things more awkward? Every possible explanation seemed to have its pitfalls so Crowley decided on the truth so he’d at least not have to add a falsehood to the list of things to feel shitty about.

“Mmmnn...nerves,” he scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Half a miracle. Lucky they all turned out the same colour really.”

“So you were _ preening _ then,” Aziraphale murmured. “For him.”

_ Shit! _

“Not for him. Not for  _ the angel _ , just…” Crowley sucked his teeth, feeling trapped. “I dunno. For the occasion?”

“The occasion?” Aziraphale’s voice went frosty.

_ Fuck! _

“And how  _ was  _ the occasion?” the angel asked, moving to look out the window and avoiding Crowley’s pleading gaze. Crowley couldn’t help but glance at the bed, remembering the way it felt to be sandwiched between a version of Aziraphale and a version of himself as they fucked the breath out of him.

“It was really bloody good, actually,” he muttered.

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale deadpanned and Crowley growled under his breath.

“It’s complicated, Angel,” he snapped. “Easy for you to stand there all judgemental and disappointed but you don’t know how much he’s like  _ you! _ He sounds like you, and smells like you. And, fuck it, in a sense he  _ is _ you. It’s bloody  _ complicated!” _

And in the back of Crowley’s mind he just realized he’d admitted to Aziraphale — _ his  _ Aziraphale— that it felt right being buggered by Zira because he wanted it to be  _ him _ . If the angel heard or understood that, he couldn’t tell. Aziraphale turned away from the window to look at him, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes sad. 

“You ran away from me, but with him you—”

“Because it’s easier! I can’t fuck everything up with  _ Zira  _ because he’s not  _ my _ Angel?” Crowley snarled a second before his brain caught up with him and he flinched at his own words. “Bloody Fucking Shit! Nope…” he retreated. “Forget I said that. Too much. Walkin’ it back now.” He cleared his throat and ignored Aziraphale’s wide-eyed shock. “You haven’t been here long enough to know what it’s like around them. You don’t know the… the pull… between us.” Crowley felt his cheeks burning, felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and inwardly screamed his corporation into behaving. He wouldn’t break down. Not yet. “You don’t understand and I can’t explain it.”

So he wouldn’t. Everything was already in shambles and he wouldn’t make it worse by continuing to try to talk about it. He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and pulled him out of the room and down the hall, banging on the door to the main bedroom.

“Crowley, what are you doing?” Aziraphale demanded, but his voice sounded wary.

“I can’t explain it,” he repeated. “You just have to see for yourself.”

Anthony answered the door, eyebrow already raised like a question mark. Crowley grabbed the other demon by the necktie and hauled him out of the room towards Aziraphale. Ignoring the protests from both, Crowley slipped into the main room and shut the door on them. He glared at Zira for a moment and the angel calmly sat on the bed and waited for Crowley's next move. 

"I really fucking wish you'd warned me," Crowley sighed. He wanted to scream at Zira. He wanted to hurt him, break him, leave him gasping around his sobs!

Except,  _ of course he  _ **_didn't_ ** _ want that! _ He'd  _ never  _ want that. So in the face of futility all Crowley's rage transmuted into exhaustion. He slid his back down to the door until he was sitting. He rested his arms on his knees and shook his head sadly. "I knew you'd get him here. I never doubted either of you. You're Aziraphale. Nothing you can't puzzle out. Only I did think it might take longer than one bloody day. I thought I had a bit of time to…" he trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought. 

Ever since he'd been taken to this world he'd wanted to get back to Aziraphale.  _ This _ is what he wanted above almost everything. Almost. He never wanted to hurt his angel.

"I dunno all the ways things must be different between you and Anthony," Crowley grumbled. "But for me? I've been tryin' to protect that bloody git for centuries! Do you understand what a risk that is for a demon? For Someone's sake! I even tried to protect his bloody  _ feelings  _ and I barely understand what those even are! And then you just rip him between worlds just like that! And Anthony tells him —tells him what I've—  _ fuuuck!  _ Now he's  _ hurt _ ! Don't you get it? I've  _ hurt  _ him and I didn't protect him and it's all fucked!  _ Why couldn't you at least have warned me? _ "

Zira's eyes were soft and loving so Crowley looked away. 

"I admit I thought you'd be pleased," Zira answered softly. "I should have been more considerate. I'm sorry."

"Of course I'm happy to see him," Crowley growled. "But if the point of Anthony abducting me in the first place was to somehow keep me from ruining my chances with my Aziraphale then lemme just say, your plan was total shite.” 

“I don’t mean to sound obtuse but what  _ exactly _ has been ruined?” Zira asked gently. “Forgive me, but from what I’ve witnessed personally, I honestly thought bringing your angel to you sooner than later was the best course.”

Crowley shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. ‘You don’t mean to sound  _ obtuse _ and yet you don’t bloody listen! I must’ve told you ten times or more that Aziraphale likes things slow! He doesn’t want a sexual relationship with me. I doubt he wants one with anyone! And the fact that I’ve…” Crowley cut himself off and tried again a little calmer. “Look. It isn’t that I haven’t enjoyed all the sex. I have. I really  _ really _ have, but maybe I shouldn’t have done it.” 

Crowley couldn’t really see how it was such a mistake at the time, and it had felt so good to be out of his anxiety-ridden brain for a while. Even now, knowing all the trouble it’s caused, there was a large part of Crowley that wanted to throw himself at Zira and beg to be taken apart. He couldn’t concentrate on how his useless heart was breaking if he was barreling towards orgasm. 

No. It was over. He’d had his fun and he should have known there’d be consequences for it. There always are. That was the real trouble that came with being a demon. Everything he enjoyed came at a price and he didn’t always get to know what it would cost up front.

“Aziraphale’s hurt and resentful now, accusing me of preferring you over him,” Crowley lamented. “It's all just sodding bonkers now.”

Zira’s brows knitted together in consternation at that and his blue eyes flicked above Crowley at the door in annoyance. “ _ Someone  _ is being very childish then,” Zira huffed. 

Crowley chuckled sadly. What did it matter if Zira thought Aziraphale’s concerns were silly. They were still a huge problem for Crowley. 

“You did nothing wrong, Red dear, and as to your angel being upset about you and I making love this morning, well,” Zira shrugged. “He was the one who suggested it.”

Crowley’s head snapped up at that, a mixture of confusion and outrage boiling in his chest.

“Yes,” Zira nodded, seeing the disbelief on Crowley’s face. “He gave me firm boundaries to preserve what he hoped would be firsts between you two, and I respected them. His feelings may well be complicated still — Lord knows he’s got his own issues and insecurities— but he can’t honestly be  _ angry _ about something he arranged himself.”

“I’ve got questions,” Crowley deadpanned. He had so many questions he didn’t even know where to start.

“And may I just point out,” Zira spoke over him with a gentle smile that quickly slid into smugness. “If your Aziraphale is bothered by you being physically intimate with someone else, wouldn’t that fly in the face of your theory that he has zero interest in having such a relationship with you?”

“No, because he’s…” Crowley started to say, because he  _ was _ very sure Aziraphale wouldn’t dirty himself in such a way but there did seem to be mounting evidence to the contrary, even if much of it was anecdotal. Was it just hopefully thinking though? Was he in danger of fooling himself into even greater heartbreak.

“If you could have heard the things he told me he’d like to do…” Zira went on, smiling kindly.

“That’s the problem, innit?” Crowley grumbled. “I didn’t.”

“My hope was that he’d tell you himself,” Zira sighed standing up. “Or better yet, actually  _ do them _ .” He marched over to where Crowley was sitting and offered him a hand up. 

“What’s the plan?” Crowley asked, suspiciously as Zira pulled him to his feet.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Zira declared. “And you two are going to finally get yourselves sorted out.”

Crowley flinched. He hated conflict and all the awkwardness that came from it. This was going to be horribly uncomfortable. But… on the chance that Zira knew what he was talking about, it might be well worth the discomfort. He opened the door and both angel and demon were suddenly struck mute in shock. 

Anthony and Aziraphale were still in nearly the same place Crowley had left them, but he was positive they hadn’t been  _ passionately snogging _ when he shut the door. Now, however, Anthony had his arms tightly around the whimpering angel, carding his long fingers through those soft-looking curls while the other hand kneaded a plump hip. Aziraphale’s hands were  _ under Anthony’s shirt! _

“Oh,” Zira snorted. 

Crowley saw red.

**______________**

_ (10 minutes earlier) _

Crowley grabbed the raven-haired demon and flung him against Aziraphale knocking them both into the wall. Aziraphale instinctively held onto the demon as they steadied each other, looking into wide topaz eyes. The door slammed shut and Crowley was gone.

“Uh…” the demon stammered. “What’s that about?”

“My apologies,” Aziraphale sighed, helping the demon find his footing. “I’m afraid we were having a disagreement and he’s just terrible at using his words sometimes.”

“Hhgn?” the demon uttered and Aziraphale had to smile at the Crowley-ness of the noise. That was, he supposed, the point of Crowley’s little tantrum. 

“I’m supposed to see for myself how complicated this all is for him,” Aziraphale explained, rolling his eyes. “This ‘pull’ he described.”

“You can’t feel it?” the demon asked, surprised? “It’s bloody strong. I felt it the first time I saw him. It was like I just  _ understood _ him and how he worked, even before I knew he was  _ me. _ ”

Aziraphale shuffled his feet a bit and cast a glance at the closed door. He could certainly relate to that feeling. He’d felt a strong kinship with Zira nearly immediately as well. Certainly the way his words had enticed Aziraphale to bring himself to climax while on the telephone with him could be described as a  _ complicated _ connection. He certainly didn’t give over to such pleasure generally and Aziraphale had read some rather salacious material in his time. 

“I know I pissed him off,” the demon —Crowley had taken to calling him Anthony, hadn’t he?—  _ Anthony  _ shrugged sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. It’s just…  _ Look at you. _ I couldn’t help but stare.”

Aziraphale felt himself blush. He usually felt so uncomfortable when he realized someone was flirting with him but he didn’t mind Anthony’s attention. It felt good and what’s more, it felt, somehow, safe.

“Oh!” he blinked, suddenly realizing this was exactly what Crowley had meant him to see. Because he  _ ought _ to be concentrating on getting them home, or at least finding  _ his  _ Crowley to resolve their argument, but instead he was staring into beautiful topaz eyes and feeling a strong desire to know this demon much  _ much _ better.

“Y’all right, Angel?” Anthony smiled. “You sounded like you just got goosed.”

“I’m starting to see what Crowley was going on about,” he admitted, returning Anthony’s smile. “And it occurs to me now that you might be uniquely qualified to help me.”

“Was hoping you’d suss that out,” Anthony grinned mischievously. “Wot’ya wanna know?”

“Zira kept telling me to figure out what I want but...” Aziraphale chewed his lip for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully. “I’m more concerned about knowing how to please Crowley. I want to have him feel he can give himself over to me, that I’ll take care of him. However, I’m not sure how to even begin. He is so standoffish and bitter as a general rule and he distrusts acts of kindness and… well, as you no doubt know, he thought I was under some sort of spell because I  _ kissed _ him!”

“So,” Anthony purred. “You want me to tell you how to make Crowley fall apart for you and  _ just take  _ all the sappy love and affection you want to pour into him?”

Aziraphale didn’t care for the disparaging “sappy” remark, but… “Yes. That is exactly what I want.”

Anthony’s grin lost its edge and Aziraphale looked into the face of a Crowley who was genuinely pleased without any of the haunted doubt and pain that plagued his own Crowley so badly. It was beautiful. 

“So. First thing you do is make a safeword,” Anthony instructed. “You know ‘bout them? Don’t wanna assume.”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly and blushed again. He certainly knew what a safeword was, but was alarmed that Anthony thought that would be step one!

“A safeword? Already?”

“Yes. First order of business. Very important,” Anthony insisted and Aziraphale sighed, worried he was being teased.

“I’m quite serious that I was hoping for some  _ genuine  _ advice,” Aziraphale huffed in annoyance, but then Anthony held his hands in his own and kissed his knuckles and Azirphale’s knees nearly buckled.

“This  _ is  _ genuine advice, Aziraphale,” Anthony murmured, kissing his other hand. “You need the safeword first because everything else gets real easy after that.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale gulped, watching avidly as the demon’s lips pressed against the back of his hands and wrists.

“Your biggest obstacle is whatever was holding you back from  _ taking what you want _ ,” Anthony told him as he opened his arm in invitation to step closer into the demon’s embrace. It was an invitation Aziraphale accepted without reservation, pressing his chest against Anthony’s as he listened closely. “That’s what you have to do to take your demon apart, Aziraphale. You have to  _ take what you want from him _ .”

Aziraphale gasped, shocked at how arousing that sentiment was. He felt so hot under his collar that he shouldn’t be at all surprised if he happened to combust. And still, the charmingly insufferable demon kept on advising. “What  _ we  _ want most of all is to be wanted. Really wanted. To know that we’re worth all our bullshit. To know that despite our spikey attitude we really are good and soft and valuable.”

“You are,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Don’t you know how amazing you are?” Anthony asked softly. “You’re easily the best angel there is, Aziraphale. Most of them are total prats but not you. You’re the best person we’ve ever known and all we’ve ever loved or wanted. But you’re a  _ Principality _ . You are so above our league even if we weren’t demons. We’re not dukes of Hell. We’re not special like you are. So for you to look at us and deem us worthy of your interest… it’s a powerfully erotic. So please, figure out what it is you want and then just bloody take it. Overpower your demon and have what you want and I guarantee you’ll have him screaming for more. It's all we want, and we want it constantly.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Aziraphale groaned, closing his eyes against another rippling wave of arousal. “If I overpower him and take what I want but he doesn’t like it? Couldn’t I hurt him?”

“Safeword,” Anthony grinned. “Tha’s why it’s step one, Angel. And you’d be shocked how little I use it.”

“But you  _ do  _ use it?” Aziraphale asked seriously. He knew Crowley well enough to know he was stubborn and stupid at times when it came to his own safety and wellbeing.

“I have,” Anthony blushed prettily. “A number of times over the years, but not often. See, we like a good struggle and we love to complain— “

“Lord, that’s the truth,” Aziraphale grinned and Anthony stuck his tongue out at him. Aziraphale was immediately struck by a desire to bite it.

“The point is, we might bitch and moan and fight but that’s just ‘cause it makes it hot as  _ fuck  _ for us. Christ, Aziraphale,” Anthony moaned, and the sound went straight to Aziraphale’s cock. “S’so good to get taken like that. Overwhelmed and fucked senseless, or held so we can’t move while you sssslowly take us apart one touch at a time. Nothing better than that. It’s so —”

Anthony’s breathless words cut off as Aziraphale pressed his lips urgently to the demon’s mouth. Anthony returned his kiss immediately and furiously and all at once it felt like Azirpahale was back in the bookshop kissing his Crowley for the first time. Anthony melted against him, moaning beautifully and Aziraphale bucked against him and gasped into his open mouth at the intensity of his desire. The kiss was hard and soft and beautiful. Long fingers held him by his hair, and gripped his arse, squeezing just so. Aziraphale whimpered and pulled the demon closer, running his hands over soft caramel skin, lifting the shirt— 

“Oh,” a familiar voice snorted beside him, but Aziraphale ignored it, thoroughly absorbed in the soft heat he was devouring. It was delicious and delicate and —gone...

Aziraphale blinked in surprise as Anthony was suddenly torn out of his arms and shoved down the hall by an extremely angry Crowley.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Aziraphale gasped in frustration. Lord, but his cock was outrageously hard and now the bloody demons were  _ fighting _ ?

Anthony spun and bared white fangs at Crowley. Aziraphale couldn’t see anything but the back of the red headed demon but the answering hiss was loud and dangerous. In a heartbeat they were brawling and Aziraphale pouted as Zira joined him. The angels watched with twin expressions of disappointment as the demons hissed and snarled and eventually toppled over the banister and crashed into the bookshelf below. The sounds of fighting continued from the sitting room.

“How long until they tire themselves out?” Aziraphale grumbled.

“Are you truly inclined to find out?” Zira asked with a knowing smirk. “One Crowley is stubborn enough. Two? We might as well go out and get a drink or two down in the village.”

“Have you another option?” Aziraphale asked with great interest.

“As it happens,” Zira retreated into the bedroom and came back with two ropes. He handed the white one to Aziraphale, while keeping the black. “If you’re willing, I propose we begin your first lesson in demon-wrangling.”

Aziraphale grinned excitedly. He was very willing indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when this fic was only supposed to be three chapters? I sure don't.


	10. Why Should It Be Tender?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fells indulge in a bit of simple demon-wrangling. The distracted Crowleys don't present much of a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a bit longer between chapters but I figured I'd post this today in hopes it might lift some people's spirits.
> 
> To my American readers, Please stay safe today, take care of yourselves physically and mentally. Good luck to you.  
> To everyone else waiting and fretting, I'm with you. Use whatever fortifies you. 
> 
> I love you guys.

Aziraphale followed his counterpart down the wooden steps, eyeing the brawling demons nervously. The sitting room was an unfortunate bystander in their dispute as they used anything they could lift as a projectile between bouts of pugilist mayhem. 

Aziraphale was reminded of how Crowley claimed to be a fan of spooky things, and clearly that was because he  _ was _ one. Both of them were. Their lovely eyes, golden and topaz, now glowed a dull umber with infernal light. Their fangs flashed and their claws slashed. There was blood, although thankfully not much of it. Crowley was bleeding from a gash across his brow. Anthony, from a split lip. They moved sinuously, bruised and battered but not broken. 

Despite the ferocity and the excessive volume of this fight (such colourful language!) it was clear to Aziraphale that neither demon seemed intent on discorporating his opponent. The majority of the battle seemed to be aimed  _ around _ the opponents. The large potted plant, for example, went quite wide of Anthony’s head, and Aziraphale knew for a fact that Crowley’s aim was damn near perfect so this fight was more threat display than actual threat.

Bloody obstinate snakes!

Aziraphale let out a quiet breath in relief. No wonder Zira had been so relaxed about this. He’d known they wouldn’t badly hurt each other. Perhaps this wasn’t the first fight these two had. Content that neither Crowley was about to be murdered, Aziraphale turned his attention to his more confident double and felt a thrill when Zira shot him a grin and a wink. 

He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was, but  _ goodness _ , this was going to be fun!

He motioned for Aziraphale to stay by the stairs, then continued to slowly circle about the room until they were opposite each other. The demons were both so engrossed in their match that neither noticed they were being hunted. Aziraphale’s heart raced excitedly and he gripped the white rope behind his back with clammy hands. 

Zira was watching him with a questioning look. Aziraphale swallowed and nodded to show he was ready. Zira smiled and turned his gaze on his demon.  _ 10- 9- 8-  _ Aziraphale took a breath and did the same, watching Crowley reel back from a nasty blow across the jaw, before snarling and bringing his knee up hard into Anthony’s stomach.  _ 5- 4- 3- 2- 1… _

" _ Attack _ ," Aziraphale whispered, watching his ember-bright demon closely. His breath caught as the soft rope slid from his loosened grasp on it's own power, darting towards the object of Aziraphale's focus. A black rope was sliding across the floor from the other side of the room.

The violence ended abruptly in twin shouts of surprise, angry hissing, and two hogtied demons.

Aziraphale let his eyes linger on Crowley, his long body writhing against the ropes, and the angel knew he was already addicted to the sight.

**————**

"I want it on the record that he started it!" Anthony shouted into the sofa. He'd given in the instant the rope found one of his wrists giving Crowley the upper hand for about half a second, enough time for the redhead to shove Anthony backwards. The resulting momentum, paired with the merciless enchanted rope caused the other demon to fall awkwardly against the sofa, trussed up with his arms behind him, ankles bound tightly and face smushed against the upholstery. 

The victory might have been sweeter if Crowley hadn’t been similarly bound immediately after, falling awkwardly beside his counterpart. Whereas Anthony seemed to be content to accept his fate, Crowley twisted and snapped and hissed. He remembered at last how to escape, was about to change into his serpent form when he caught Anthony’s eye and something he saw there made him pause. The demon gave him a knowing look and ever-so-slightly shook his head. 

So Crowley waited, took a breath, remembered he wasn’t in danger. His anger began to ebb and he relaxed into the floor until he remembered _Anthony had just_ _blamed him for all this_ and the anger came flooding back! Crowley tried to wriggle close enough to the demon to bite him.

“Angel, help!” Anthony squealed while looking not-at-all afraid. Crowley snapped at him but Anthony was hauled up out of reach before the redhead could make contact. Zira held Anthony gently and gave Crowley a rueful headshake. Anthony stuck his tongue out at him. 

“You naff, quisby mank mingebag!” he railed. “I’ll piss in your bloody plants!”

“Are you all right, Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice cut through the fog of anger and burned it away. He froze, mortified. This was  _ not _ a good look for him.

"Uhmm…" he stalled, trying to figure out how to look suave while hogtied and bleeding.  _ Nope. Not gonna pull it off.  _ He opted to take a cue from Anthony (fucking Anthony!) and played up helplessness instead in hopes Aziraphale took pity on him.

He set his head on the floor and gazed up with the sad, pleading look he'd learned from Aziraphale. He'd seen it countless times and it never failed to undo him. Would it work in reverse?

"Oh, look at you, Crowley," Aziraphale cooed, pulling the inwardly smirking demon into his arms. "You silly, impulsive thing. May I heal you, dear? Please?"

Crowley gave him a wide-eyed look of grateful awe (only half feigned. Aziraphale was gorgeous and very close at the moment!) and nodded. Warm fingertips gently stroked over his face, healing his bruised jaw, the scratch over his eyebrow, the angry scalp where Anthony had grabbed his hair and yanked…

All the little hurts barely registered, of course. Crowley had an exceptionally high pain tolerance (average by demon standards) and he was more than capable of healing himself but this felt nice, and it seemed to make Aziraphale feel better to do it. The kind smile and sappy eyes were much better than the hurt and anger the angel had sported earlier.

"There you are," Aziraphale whispered, stroking Crowley's hair gently. The demon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning in pleasure as the angel's fingers danced along his scalp. 

"Yeh, thanks Angel," he muttered quietly. "I think the urge to murder Anthony has mostly passed. You can untie me now."

Aziraphale ran his warm hands over Crowley's bound wrists, healing energy sparking against where he had rubbed his skin raw with his struggling. The burn melted away but the ropes remained snugly in place. Crowley had closed his eyes in pleasure at the touch but opened them again in consternation when he wasn't granted his freedom. 

"Angel?" he prompted, trying to cast a meaningful glance at the ropes holding him. "C'mon. I'm safe. Promise."

"Don't listen to him!" Anthony teased from where Zira had set him on the sofa. "It's a trick!"

"Oh, I'm sure the violence is over for the evening," Zira chuckled. Aziraphale smiled down at Crowley warmly. Crowley smiled weakly back. 

"You do look uncomfortable," Aziraphale conceded finally and Crowley sighed in relief as the rope unwrapped from his ankles and his spine was free at last to adopt its slouch. He pushed his hair out of his face with his freed left hand then frowned in confusion as the rope slithered over his chest towards his raised arm. 

"Um," he said, flicking his eyes from his right wrist (still bound) to Aziraphale (still smiling, if somewhat smug) to his left arm (which was quickly getting bound up again). The rope tightened in a quick jerking motion and his wrists were sharply drawn together and resecured. 

"Whyyyy?" He whined.

"You just behave or I'll tie your feet again," Aziraphale scolded him but his voice wavered nervously. Crowley arched his eyebrow and gave the angel his best  _ what-the-actual-fuck _ look. This condescending expression had a fantastic record of making the angel wilt and question himself. Aziraphale was generally only immune to it (to Crowley's immense embarrassment) when the angel was doing his daft magic tricks.

"Don't give me that look!" Aziraphale chastised. "Don't mistake my lack of confidence for a lack of  _ conviction _ , you old snake." The rope immediately lengthened and stuck south and Crowley yelped in shock as his legs were yanked together and secured just below the knee forcing his wrists in place on his lap.

Anthony snickered at him and Zira actually  _ clapped! _

"Thank you both for your advice," Aziraphale smiled at the husbands and Crowley found himself being hefted up into the angel's arms as if he weighed nothing!

"Of course," Zira smiled back, warmly. "I'm sure you two have much to discuss but before you go I'd like to propose another lesson for tomorrow and gauge your interests."

"Oh?" Aziraphale grinned at the same time Crowley snapped "what bloody  _ lessons _ ?"

"Crowley has been so kind as to show Red some of the secret pleasures of his body," Zira continued, stroking his hand through Anthony's thick black hair. Crowley flinched at the reminder to Aziraphale of his...  _ activities  _ with his double, however, the angel didn't seem as flustered by it this time. He shifted Crowley slightly to hold him more comfortably as he listened intently.

"I'm certain he wouldn't mind helping me demonstrate some techniques to further control your demon to draw out his pleasure, Hmm?" Zira's question was directed at Anthony, who swallowed hard and flushed deep red. The demon shook his head slowly and Zira smiled at him.

"Excellent. Then we will demonstrate how to safely suspend him from the doorway and strip him down. I'll show you both the tools I can play with to tease his skin or take away his other senses until all he has left is the sensations I feed him… and oh,  _ the sensations  _ I will give this one..." he trailed off, gazing hungrily down at Anthony.

Zira's voice was nearly hypnotic and Crowley felt his mouth drop open and heard poor Aziraphale gasp a little. No one was more affected than Anthony though. The demon strained against his bonds at last, sweating. His chest rose and fell with his rapid breaths and he stared at his husband with lust-dark eyes.

"Ngk… time to untie me Angel," Crowley groaned, desperately trying to hide his own arousal.

"I don't believe it is," Aziraphale answered him firmly, his voice low and quiet. "And I would be very interested in attending the demonstration, thanks." 

Crowley glanced up at him and nearly choked. The blue of his eyes had been nearly swallowed up by dilated pupils. His cheeks were slightly pink but the way he suggestively bit his lip spoke to the flush being from arousal rather than embarrassment.

"Bloody Hell, Angel! At some point we really should talk about the speed with which you go native!" Crowley teased with a weak laugh.

Aziraphale ignored him and politely dismissed himself and carried Crowley back up the stairs. Crowley was so surprised he didn't even offer up a token protest. He glanced over his shoulder to shoot a pleading look at the husbands but they only had eyes for each other it seemed. Zira was grinning as he dragged Anthony closer until he was supine across the angel's lap. Crowley heard Anthony's helpless gasp of pleasure followed by a lengthy moan but Aziraphale had already carried him out of sight so he could only imagine what had caused a sound like that.

And Crowley was a demon of great imagination…  _ Shit! _ This was an inconvenient time for an erection!

"They can't see us, Angel. You can untie me now," he whispered. "Joke's done, eh?"

"Joke?" Aziraphale asked innocently? Crowley wasn't buying it and smirked up at the Principality as he carried him into the guest room and shut the door with his foot.

"Oh ho ho, okay," Crowley drawled. "Am I supposed to believe that you've come all the way across dimensions just to learn how to tie me up..." and here he affected Zira's plummy accent, " _ to control me and draw out my pleasure? _ "

Aziraphale flushed at that and Crowley smirked at him. "Of course not!" Aziraphale shook his head. "I came here to bring you  _ home _ , Crowley." The angel set him down on the bed and sat down beside him. The bindings around his knees released and, with a crisp snap, Crowley's wrists were now fastened to the headboard. Crowley blinked in shock and Aziraphale was now the one smirking. 

"Tying you up and drawing out your pleasure is just a happy bonus."

“Hhnng!” Crowley gasped, quickly drawing his knees up to hide his twitching cock. “Who are you and what have you done with the nervous, fussbucket Principality?”

“Oh, stop being a goose,” Aziraphale scoffed, bending to untie his oxfords. “If you’ll recall _ I  _ was the one who initiated taking our relationship to another level when I kissed you in the bookshop.”

“Yyyeah… but—”

“And you seemed to enjoy it too, but then you started spewing some ridiculous apologies and literally ran away from me as if I’d threatened to smite you!”

“Was picturing Hellhounds, actually,” Crowley grumbled.

“Charming,” Aziraphale deadpanned. “In any case, given your propensity towards sudden flight, and the way you were eyeing the window earlier, I think it best you stay tied up and at least  _ somewhat  _ controlled for now, don’t you?”

He  _ did _ have a point. Crowley’s instinct to run away/hide/sleep was pretty strong, and at least with him tied up then he couldn’t be blamed for running off when all this crashed and burned. Now if he could just struggle his aching cock into submission, he’d be able to get through this without totally humiliating himself. Right now that was a pretty big (and increasingly sensitive) _ if _ .

“FFfffucking Hell…” Crowley groaned. “Okay. I’ll behave.  _ Try to _ , anyway.”

Aziraphale gave a nod of satisfaction and removed his overcoat, hanging it up in the closet. As Crowley watched with ever-widening eyes and clammy-ing palms, the angel proceeded to remove his waistcoat and bow tie as well. When Aziraphale turned back towards him and started rolling his sleeves up to bare his forearms, Crowley swore under his breath and dropped his head to the mattress.  _ Not good! Not helping!  _

He was squeezing his thighs together so hard they were starting to shake, but he still couldn’t quite accept that this was a seduction. It certainly  _ felt _ like a seduction, but maybe this was just a byproduct of eons of pining. His attraction for Aziraphale had only gotten stronger with every passing year until nearly every little thing the angel did turned the demon on. If it was a seduction, then Crowley’s eager erection wouldn’t ruin the evening and he could relax his legs. If it wasn’t a seduction, if Aziraphale were merely teasing and having a go at the husbands, then the hard bulge in the demon’s jeans would definitely not be appreciated and they’d both end up humiliated. He needed to get himself under control!

But those forearms… Shit, he was a total slut for rolled up shirtsleeves!

“Okay,” he repeated lightly, forcing himself to stare at the ceiling and  _ not _ look at sexy Aziraphale. “Sssso, wot’s the plan then? I’m clearly at your tender mercy here so if you’re wanting to talk I s’pose now’s the time.” Talking should do the trick nicely. Maybe Aziraphale would start using that extra pompous tone he used when he was bickering. That was a surefire way to cool Crowley down and kill his prick.

“We  _ should  _ absolutely talk. We have a great deal to discuss,” Aziraphale agreed, coming around to sit beside Crowley again. Crowley wished he hadn’t lost his glasses in the brawl downstairs as he continued to stare at the ceiling and squeeze his legs around his insolent cock. “But I confess I’m not in the mood for a lengthy discussion. As for my mercy,” Aziraphale laughed quietly and Crowley held his breath at the sound. “I don’t see why it should be  _ tender _ . You’ve caused quite a lot of upset. I’m a bit cross.”

_ That  _ got Crowley to look away from the ceiling. He stared at Aziraphale in surprise and found himself instantly lost in those fathomless eyes. His heart was drumming in his ears so loudly he was sure the angel could hear it. Was  _ that  _ what was making him smile so smugly? Or was it the embarrassing whine that just escaped his throat? He was leaking into his pants now, every twitch of his legs sending a jolt of stimulation up his spine. If it was possible to come from just a look, Crowley had the sinking suspicion he might do so tonight.

“Hhhhow cross, exactly?” he joked, his voice an octave too high.

A warm hand cupped his cheek, the thumb gently prying Crowley’s lip from his teeth. He hadn’t even realized he was biting it! The touch was soft and loving and only inflamed the demon’s lust. He was finding it increasingly difficult to control his breathing. Stupid useless corporation. He didn’t even  _ need _ oxygen, damnit! But did his lungs know that? Of-bloody-Course not! So here he was panting like he’d just run twelve blocks with imagined Hellhounds on his tail.

“I must confess that I like seeing you like this,” Aziraphale whispered, lowering his head to press a gentle kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “I like it a great deal.” He placed another soft kiss over the tattoo beside Crowley’s ear and the demon’s hips jumped. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Tickety boo,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Jusssst fiiiiiiine...”

“May I kiss you again, Crowley?” the angel smiled softly. “Now that the Hellhounds can’t get you?”

He was never going to live that down.

Crowley gazed up at dark blue eyes so beautiful they broke his heart all over again. “You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he whispered and instantly wanted to bite his tongue off before betraying him like that. Aziraphale blinked in surprise before he broke into a smile that was brighter than the sun and kissed Crowley like it was what he was made to do.

Crowley was too far gone to worry about love spells or lust curses or other such ‘Hellhounds’. Those were always just poor excuses for his own fears. Perfectly valid fears, really. Fear of disappointing him, fear of hurting him. The fear that sooner or later Aziraphale would realize what a huge mistake he was making and leave Crowley in pieces. He assumed it was better to end it before either of them got in too deep. It wasn’t like an angel could ever truly love a demon, right? That’s what he’d always believed.

And since this universe _loved_ its coincidences and comic timing it was as Crowley had this thought that Anthony screamed from downstairs. His _apparently very_ _powerful_ orgasm after 30 years of marriage put the lie to _that_ particular line of thinking. 

Aziraphale laughed against Crowley’s lips as the pleasured cry dissolved, and Crowley grinned and playfully nipped at the angel’s chin. Perhaps Aziraphale took the sound as a challenge, or maybe Crowley wasn’t the only one bady aroused by the events of the evening, but the kiss took a sudden left turn from sweet and gentle to positively  _ filthy,  _ and Crowley was all for it!

He pulled at the restraints wanting to hold the angel to him, but they held fast. Instead, Aziraphale was able to wrap his hand around the base of Crowley’s skull and tilt his head exactly as the angel wanted it as he drove his slick tongue down the demon’s throat. Crowley’s moans were muffled by the kiss, heat radiating up from his body as he fought against the restraints, and fought to keep his legs together. Fuck! He wanted… oh shit! He  **_wanted!_ **

Aziraphale released his hold on Crowley’s eager mouth and began pressing hungry kisses along his jawbone as his hands gripped his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as they pulled his head this way and that. The angel’s breath seemed to blow directly into the pleasure centre of Crowley’s brain as Aziraphale captured his earlobe between his lips before tracing the shell with his tongue. 

Crowley bucked helplessly and moaned. He tried to twist around to recapture the angel’s sweet mouth but Aziraphale yanked his head back into place so he could make a feast of Crowley’s throat. Soft, plush lips sealed against the side of his neck and sucked a bruise into the skin as the demon mewled and kicked his feet uselessly against the duvet. His cock was so hard every twitch and helpless thrust rubbed harshly against his tight jeans.

“Haah… Aziraphale I… I waaa…. _ hnnng! _ ” he gritted his teeth as the sucking pressure against his neck grew just on the right side of pain and his eyes started to roll back. “Oh… Oh _ shit _ …”

Aziraphale lifted his mouth, letting cool air grace the dark love mark he’d made before he licked a slow wet trail back up the demon’s long throat with the flat of his tongue. Neatly trimmed nails continued their exploration through Crowley’s hair until finally, (perhaps inevitably) they found that spot at his nape and Crowley was utterly lost. 

“SSShit! Shit!  _ SHiT!  _ Ah!  _ AH! _ Angel!  _ ANGEL PLEASE! _ ” Crowley cried as he came, fucking up against air as his disobedient cock spurted hot spend into his pants, slicking the inside of his jeans.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned, kissing him deeply as the last spasms started to subside. “Oh my darling, yes…” he kissed his way back over Crowley’s lips, chin, jaw, and Crowley snapped his fingers weakly from where his hands still hung bound together and cleaned the mess he’d made of his trousers.

“Sssorry,” he muttered, unable even to blush at this point. Aziraphale groaned and Crowley became dimly aware of the angel’s erection pressing into his hip. His heart would have leapt at the evidence of his arousal if it wasn’t still trying to recover from the,  _ what? _ Seventh? Eighth orgasm today? Plus all the fighting and running and drama and…  _ Someone! _ He was bloody knackered! Still he should really pay attention to  _ this _ . This was important. Aziraphale was important.

“Lemme…” he struggled to hold the angel but couldn’t move his arms. “Angel, lemme take care of you.” he begged softly. Aziraphale kissed him hard again and the ropes around his wrists uncoiled, freeing his arms at last. 

Crowley sighed in relief and flung them around Aziraphale like the dead weights they were and tried to kiss the angel back. This was his moment to show Aziraphale everything he meant to him. He wanted to. He really did. 

He was thinking about how badly he wanted to as darkness spotted his vision and he was rudely swallowed by sleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor sleepy snek.
> 
> Poor frustrated randy angel.


	11. A Proper Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fells have another tete-a-tete and Crowley apologizes to Aziraphale for a disappointing night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get by with a little help from our friends :)

Aziraphale groaned against Crowley’s throat as the demon cried out. The orgasm sounded both joyous and mournful, like it had come against Crowley’s will. Sure enough, the demon slumped down into the mattress in what should have been post-coital bliss, only to mumble another apology. 

Aziraphale didn’t care that Crowley had climaxed already (although it ruined his romantic fantasy of them coming together their first time.) He was quite close as well, and they were both still fully clothed and managed to get here just by snogging! Honestly, it was a wonder they made it this long with neither of them embarrassing themselves.

Crowley nuzzled under the angel’s chin, pleading to return the favour and Aziraphale released the ropes binding the demon’s wrists, desperate for his touch at long last. 

“Oh, Crowley, yes,” Aziraphale sighed, kissing Crowley everywhere he could reach. All the nagging doubts were gone. He wanted this. He wanted Crowley. He wanted Crowley right this instant!

“Darling?”

A snore.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale propped himself up on his elbow to look down at the demolished demon. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with slow breaths. Aziraphale tittered nervously and poked him in the ribs. 

“You’re joking,” he insisted hopefully. “Very funny, dear. Come on now.” It was with some distress that Aziraphale found the demon had, indeed, fallen asleep. “Crowley!” he hissed, giving him a firm shake. “Wake up!” The demon mumbled something and rolled over, abandoning Aziraphale to his frustration. "Unbelievable," the angel grumbled.

With Crowley officially out of commission Aziraphale had little choice but to miracle his erection away (something that proved effective only in the short term as sleepy Crowley looked soft and beautiful and Aziraphale was still quite worked up despite the miracle.) Having no books with him to read, and the sleeping demon too tempting to be around, Aziraphale decided to see if the other two were finished downstairs so he might find something to read down there. 

It sounded quiet in the hallway and sure enough, as he crept down the steps, he saw that Anthony was passed out on the sofa under a soft throw blanket. Aziraphale tried not to ogle the demon, but it was no use. The Crowleyness was too strong and he found himself gazing fondly at the slumbering dark haired demon. His clothing had been carelessly strewn around the room (some of them in tatters!) and one the demon's long arms dangled loose while he snoozed with his face buried in the cushion. Livid rope marks showed on his creamy wrists and Aziraphale winced in sympathy at the sight, his fingers already twitching with healing energy.

"Please don't," Zira requested gently from the kitchen doorway.

"It looks sore," Aziraphale complained.

"I know," Zira agreed, motioning him to the kitchen. "And it wouldn't be nearly that bad if he didn't chafe it so on purpose. I've learned the hard way that Crowley likes to heal these marks himself when, and if, he chooses."

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley _did_ have his own powers, and his own agency.

"Mine has gone to sleep as well," he sighed, changing the subject. 

"They had a tiring day, I think," Zira smiled fondly towards the sitting room where his husband slept. It was a sweet, content expression and it made Aziraphale feel surprisingly bitter.

"It certainly sounded like he had help getting to sleep," he chuckled, trying to keep his tone light. Zira's smile widened and he looked a bit sheepish.

"Yes, sorry. He can be quite loud when we do…" he trailed off, "well, we've had time to learn from each other what gets that sort of reaction."

"Hmph, easier done, I'd imagine, if one of you doesn't fall asleep in the middle of things," Aziraphale grumbled and Zira looked over at him in surprise.

"He didn't!"

"He absolutely _did_ ," Aziraphale confirmed, quite annoyed, but Zira's look of sympathy mollified him somewhat. 

A glance at the clock told him that it _was_ quite late, and he knew full well how the demon was often at Morpheus’ mercy. If it weren’t for the Aziraphale’s abundance of nerves and unresolved desire, Crowley’s impromptu nap mightn’t have bothered him at all.

However, there _were_ the nerves. And there _was_ the unresolved desire. Aziraphale collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and allowed himself the liberty to moan in quiet distress. Zira patted his shoulder and began making them some tea. 

“I could always try to wake mine, if you like,” Zira joked. “I’m sure, given what I saw earlier, that he’d be more than willing to assist you.”

“So kind of you to volunteer your husband to service my needs,” Aziraphale responded flatly. “I am in awe of your hospitality. Truly.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Zira scolded. “I was clearly joking. And let me assure you that Crowley wouldn’t take to being ‘volunteered’ for anything he didn’t wish to do on his own. I’m not a bloody sadist.”

“ _Was_ it a joke?” Aziraphale lifted a brow. “Because I admit I was skeptical of the pull Crowley —my Crowley that is— said he felt towards you both until I felt it rather strongly myself.”

Zira looked over his shoulder at him for a moment then went back to preparing the tea. “All I said was that I would wake him.”

“And if, hypothetically he was willing?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” Zira huffed. “Are you concerned that I am upset that you two were snogging in the hallway earlier? Or are you _hoping_ that I was? Because I don’t speak for Crowley. I think I have been clear on that point.”

“You both slept with my demon,” Aziraphale grumbled then was instantly shocked and embarrassed by his own words. He felt himself blush furiously as Zira slowly turned back around to give him a cold look.

“So, despite the fact that you explicitly told me you were fine with our agreement, you are now expecting tit for tat, is that it?”

“No!” Aziraphale squeaked, knowing it was a lie. “Oh, at least I hadn’t _thought_ I was. I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t _expect_ that at all, but I’m all mixed up inside now and… I’m sorry. Honestly. That was an awful thing to say.” Aziraphale groaned. “I know I told you to go ahead and work with my Crowley, and I knew full well what that entailed. And I _can’t_ fault you at all for wanting to, not after feeling so powerfully drawn to your… oh dear, your _husband._ Oh, I am so much worse than I thought!” Aziraphale buried his face in his hands, feeling on the verge of tears once more. Why was he struggling so badly to sort himself out!

“Can we take a step back from blame and just acknowledge that neither of us have even heard of anything like this happening before?” Zira asked gently. Aziraphale took a deep breath and nodded. That was true. The strangeness of their predicament somewhat necessitated a certain amount of confusion, he supposed. Still, there was no call for such rudeness, and Aziraphale had no right to behave possessively. Zira set the kettle on to boil, then came around the table to gently rub Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

“I think we need to be patient and forgiving with each other and ourselves. Lord knows I have been trying to act like I have all this under control,” Zira continued. “But until Crowley brought his redhaired double back with him I’d never even considered that this was remotely possible. It was the sort of hypothetical, silly drivel you talk about on snowy evenings. And then there was this new demon standing in front of me, wearing those blasted sunglasses and crooked smile and I was drawn to him in a way I’ve only ever felt for my husband.”

Aziraphale nodded again, leaning back against the other angel’s touch, surprised —and then instantly unsurprised— that he knew exactly where to dig his thumbs to relieve the tension. 

“And I knew I had to find you, and not just to be sure you were safe—” Zira continued, and Aziraphale startled at that.

“What do you mean? Why would you believe I wasn’t safe?”

“Red was worried you were under a spell, if you recall,” Zira chuckled. “He couldn’t conceive of how you’d kiss a demon unless you were being coerced in some way.”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale giggled. “Well, I suppose in his defense, I _did_ move quite suddenly. He wouldn’t remember his sleepy love confession and I did try ever so hard to keep my feelings for him to myself.”

“Hardly matters now,” Zira smiles. “It will be harder for him to explain away you kissing him this time.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Azirpahale sighed. “Crowley is as bad as I am for self-delusion.”

“Maybe you two just need a vacation,” Zira laughed. “You’re both so stressed, and no wonder if your Armageddon happened just last year. Crowley and I at least had our love lives mostly figured out when that happened, but we were still an utter mess during and after that ordeal. It is perfectly reasonable for you to be flustered and confused, I say.”

“Oh, is it?” Aziraphale asked, hopefully.

“Quite reasonable,” Zira confirmed. “Especially concerning Crowley and I. As you know, We’ve been married for decades and were together much longer than that, and as a result we’re quite comfortable with each other, but this has been difficult for us to navigate as well. I can only imagine how you two feel. I’m sorry if we are making it worse for you with our… excitement at your arrival.”

Aziraphale blushed again and had to smile. “More complicated, perhaps, but not ‘worse’. Crowley and I have a 6,000 year habit of hiding our feelings. I think we could do with having things shaken up a bit and being pulled out of our comfort zone. Who knows how long it would take me to admit I have carnal desires for Crowley, let alone that I want to see him tied up and moaning from what I do to him?”

“A few centuries at least,” Zira smiled, blushing a bit. “So, I haven’t overstepped with my suggestion of a demonstration?”

“Not at all. I’m very interested, so long as you remember we’re novices.” Aziraphale murmured, shifting on his seat due to his lengthening erection. He miracled it into submission once more. “And assuming Crowley wakes up.”

**_____________**

  
  


Crowley stared at the overcoat and oxfords in the closet and blinked once, letting it all sink in. 

He'd woken up just after dawn to the faint scent of Aziraphale lingering in the room. He'd been sure it was a dream, a lovely (if humiliating) dream. But then he'd slowly clued in to the bruises on his wrists and noticed the white rope lying discarded on the floor. Aziraphale wasn't in the room but his waistcoat, shoes and overcoat were still here.

So… _not_ a dream. His angel was here! And he'd made a complete arse of himself in front of him and then blacked out!

"Fantastic," he drawled at himself, hoping to choke to death on his own sarcasm. "S'gonna be a great day."

"It better be!" Anthony hissed behind him. Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin and whirled around to find the other demon climbing in through the window with a bouquet of hand picked flowers clutched in his hands. 

"Wot's going on?" Crowley demanded, helping Anthony navigate his entry to the room without making too much noise. He had no idea what was happening but figured if the demon was breaking into his _own home_ , it meant it was time to be very quiet.

"You fell asleep!" Anthony hissed at him. "You idiot! I heard the angels talking in the kitchen about you. You finally get the angel in bed and you fall asleep?!"

"Oh no no no," Crowley laughed mirthlessly. " _Much_ worse than that, I'm afraid. I got so excited I came in my jeans! _Then_ I fell asleep. Still think I don't need that holy water?"

"Shaddup," Anthony scoffed. "S'not great, but we can fix this. Here." The demon thrust the bouquet at Crowley, summoned a white ribbon and hastily bound it together. "Listen to me, he could come up any second, so shut up and listen. _You_ picked these. You snuck into the garden through the window and nicked these for Aziraphale as an apology. I'll act furious about it later, and he'll eat that up."

"Uhmm… thanks?" Crowley turned the bouquet over in his hands, hoping it was enough. No time to run out for pastries though.

"Not done, this is the important bit," Anthony hissed, eyeing the doorway nervously. "You give him the flowers, be as romantic as possible and —I'm serious here— you _suck his cock."_

Crowley glared at Anthony. "Okay, thanks for the flowers and all, but fuck off."

"He _wants_ you, you twat!" Anthony growled. "Wanted you _last night!_ You shot off and then _fell the fuck to sleep_! You don't let him out of this room until you get him off, all right?"

"Yeh," Crowley nodded, eyes wide in humiliation. "Got it." 

Anthony gave him an _I'm-watching-you_ gesture, and then vanished.

Crowley sighed and walked back to the window, wondering how he was going to maneuver Aziraphale back into bed. Sure, he was a temptation demon but he was pretty rusty when it came to seduction. He swore under his breath and closed the window.

"You're awake," Aziraphale's soft voice sounded behind him. _Why were people sneaking up on him this morning?!_ Crowley turned, adopting a sheepish grin and Aziraphale's eyes widened when he saw the flowers.

"Are those…" he trailed off with a blush. Crowley quickly crossed the room and took the angel's hand.

"For you," he finished the sentence with a smile. "I owed you a proper apology after last night. Kinda embarrassed myself. Got too excited and… well, you always teased me about my jeans being too tight. Guess you were right."

"Oh, they're lovely," Aziraphale gushed, sniffing the roses and smiling warmly. He glanced at the window Crowley had just shut and his eyes twinkled with mischief. " Did you pick these from Anthony's garden?"

"Mmmeuugh, he won't miss a few roses...or hydrangea…" he smirked and winked. "And it really needed the delphinium to round it out."

"You scamp!" Aziraphale giggled. "Well, I suppose I can forgive you, this once. I'll consider you properly chagrined to have been foiled by your own sartorial choices."

"Very," Crowley felt his cheeks warm. “But more so the falling asleep bit? S’not wot I wanted.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, acting coy. “What was it you wanted?”

“You,” Crowley closed the small distance between them, dropping his voice. “I’ve always wanted you, Angel.” 

Romance wasn’t something Crowley really understood. He could fake it when he needed to in the past, but it was always just one of his tools for seduction. The idea of _acting_ romantic around Aziraphale felt foreign and false so he gave it up for a bad idea and opted for honesty instead. 

“I’ve been afraid of how much I’ve wanted you, of what it might mean to give you that kind of power over me. Hell would have obliterated me for it, but if you rejected me I’d have wanted them to.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped.

“No, just let me say it, Angel. Please,” Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand tightly. “I’m not worthy of you. I know I’m not, but I can’t help wanting you. I can’t help… _llllloving you_ ,” he winced at the effort of getting that word off his tongue but his heart lightened once he’d spit it out. “I love you, Aziraphale. I have for as long as I can remember. I just want you to be safe and happy and I just want to be with you anyway you’ll let me. That’s what I want most of all. You don’t have to make yourself any other way for me.”

He grinned sheepishly then, digging a toe into the rug. “ I mean… don’t get me wrong, the way you tied me up and kissed me breathless was _brilliant_ and I’ll be thinking about it for centuries,” he added, because he wanted it to be clear he was very interested in doing that again. “But you don’t have to if it isn’t what you want. I love you as you are, Angel. I just want you as _you_.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, dropping the flowers to the floor and flinging his arms around Crowley’s neck. “Oh my darling, I love you too! I’ve been so in my head about it, terrified of it and I’m so sorry for denying it for so long. I’ve wasted so much time, hiding my love from you. No wonder you thought I had to be under a spell when I finally kissed you. I’ve lied for so long. I’ve said terrible things to you and I never once meant them.”

“Erm… you didn’t?” Crowley blanched, nervously hovering his hands above the angel's waist. He was afraid to return the angel’s embrace. “‘Cause s’not like we _weren’t_ hereditary enemies and I know I can be a lot sometimes, _demon_ and all.”

“You’re much more than just a demon, Crowley,” Aziraphale told him firmly. He relaxed his embrace and looked up at him through happy tears. “And you were never truly my enemy. I’ve told you before. You really are very nice and it—”

“M’not nice!” Crowley instantly hissed, his shoulders tightening up in revolt.

“Oh dear!” Aziraphale smirked around his mock concern. “What on earth will you do? Toss me up against another wall?”

Crowley felt his cheeks warm again, and blinked for the second time this morning. “Uh.”

“Wouldn’t _that_ be a shame…” Aziraphale continued, twirling Crowley’s scarf around in his fingers. “Who knows what would happen if you were to try something like that again?”

“Um.” The jeans were becoming a problem again. 

Aziraphale looked up at him through his lashes, his lips curving in a sexy smirk. “ _Nice_ ,” he whispered and Crowley bit back another hiss. “You’re _nice_ ,” the angel challenged him and Crowley growled. “And what’s more, you’ve _always been nice!_ ” Aziraphale teased with a relaxed aire as if Crowley wasn’t simmering with fury right in front of him. “Why, I have to say, you may indeed be the _nicest_ demon to ever walk the—”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall, snarling into his face. “Sssshut it! There! Is thissss what you want?!” Aziraphale shut his eyes as he was shoved against the wall again, but when he opened them to look at Crowley in open challenge. 

“Yes,” he answered simply then sent Crowley crashing backwards with a sudden burst of holy power. Crowley yelped, instinctively bracing himself now against what was bound to be a painful trip _through_ the wall, but his momentum was halted as suddenly as it began and he hovered midair, unharmed. He opened one eye, and then the other and watched in surprised arousal as Aziraphale began unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Are you feeling tired at all now, dear?” Aziraphale asked kindly, as if nothing untoward had just happened.

“Uh… nope,” Crowley attested, still floating and confused over it. “Definitely not at all _tired…_ ”

“Excellent,” Aziraphale smiled before snapping his fingers and letting Crowley drop onto the bed. He yelped again as he bounced awkwardly on the mattress. A second later that same heavenly power grabbed his ankles and dragged him to the foot of the bed where Aziraphale was waiting for him. The angel took hold of his scarf once more and pulled him up to sitting. Crowley stared up at him in awe, his glasses askew.

“For the record, I could have done this before as well,” Aziraphale stated, running his free gently through Crowley’s hair. “When you slammed me into the wall in Tadfield manor. If I had wished to, I could have stopped you. I’m a Principality, Crowley. I have a number of powers at my disposal.”

“If you had done this in Tadfield Manor,” Crowley smirked up at him, “We would have ended up giving that satanic nun quite the show,”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed him gently. Crowley felt the thrum of angelic power fade as he was released from its hold. He quickly made use of his freed limbs to wrap them around the angel and pull him down on top of him. Aziraphale made a pleased sound against his lips before kissing him again. 

Warm hands slid over Crowley's chest and swept over his shoulders in an attempt to remove his jacket. Crowley shrugged out of it quickly then seized the angel again immediately not wanting to let go even for that long. Aziraphale chuckled, his laugh muffled by Crowley's busy lips.

"You always make fun of my layers of clothing," Aziraphale murmured between kisses. "But you have just as many, my dear, and I'm trying to rectify this if you don't mind."

"Easily done, Angel," Crowley drawled, lifting his hand but the angel quickly clasped his fingers before he could snap his clothes away. Crowley looked up at him in dismay.

"I have waited for this moment for thousands of years," Aziraphale told him. "I plan to unwrap you like the gift you are."

Crowley pulled a face at that. "Are you plannin' on being a _cheesy_ _git_ the whole time?" he groaned.

"You find my adoration cheesy?" Aziraphale giggled, nibbling his way down Crowley's throat. 

"Extremely, yes," Crowley nodded vigorously. "If you're gonna ‘unwrap’ me then _unwrap_ already!"

"So impatient," Aziraphale scoffed, slowly starting on the buttons of Crowley’s waistcoat. “You really must learn to savour things, my dear.”

“ _Now_ though?” he whined, trying to help Aziraphale with the buttons only to have his hands smacked away. “Do I have to learn to savour things right bloody _now?!”_

Aziraphale ignored him, and savoured away, slowly making four buttons feel like a hundred. Finally, the angel had the blasted thing undone and sat up, straddling Crowley’s hips and earning another lengthy groan as his clothed erection rubbed tantalizingly against the bulge in Crowley’s jeans.

“I’d be careful there if I were you,” Crowley growled “Unless you want a repeat of last night.”

“I certainly do not,” Aziraphale admitted, grabbing Crowley by the scarf once more.

“Ngk!” Crowley squeaked as he was hauled back up to sitting. Aziraphale pulled the waistcoat off and kissed him again, deeply this time. He licked into Crowley’s mouth, stealing his breath before leaning back again and pulling the grey v-necked henley over Crowley’s head. Warm fingers played with the hem of the black vest, teasing across Crowley’s lower belly and making him hiss and tense until that too was pulled up and off. The scarf managed to stay on somehow, so Crowley reached to pull it off too and once again had his hand gently slapped away.

“Keep it,” Aziraphale ordered, giving him another sharp tug with it. Crowley’s cock jumped and started to leak.

“Whatever you want, Angel,” he whispered, surrendering to Aziraphale’s will. 

“I want you,” Aziraphale whispered, kissing his ear, his neck, his shoulder. “I want you.”

“Yessss,” Crowley groaned, letting the angel guide him back down to the mattress, and shivering at the feel of soft lips against his collar bone. 

“I want you,” Aziraphale murmured again, before flicking one of Crowley’s nipples to hardness with his tongue and chuckling as Crowley writhed for him. “I want you to lie here and _deal with it_ while I torment you with the 'cheesiest' lines I’ve heard over the years.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open at that and he lifted his head to look down his body at the grinning angel. “You wot?!”

“I should thank you, dear. I was feeling very off this morning,” Aziraphale murmured, kissing the space between Crowley’s collarbones. “But then you turned me on…”

“ _No_ ,” Crowley gasped, horrified. Aziraphale giggled.

“I do hope you’re enjoying these kisses, but if not, feel free to return them,” Aziraphale continued lightly.

“No no!” Crowley dropped his head back to the bed with a snort of laughter and buried his face with his hands. “Angel, stop. It's too much!”

“I know this must be love Crowley,” Aziraphale grinned at him mischievously. “Even my fly is falling for you.”

“So… cheesy…” Crowley wheezed dramatically. “ _Hhhuurk!_ Gonna...discorporate!...”

“Do I need to sign for this package?” the angel smirked, lightly trailing his fingers over the bulge in Crowley’s jeans. Crowley tried to say something witty but that came out was a whimper and a groan. Where had the angel picked these lines up? Had people honestly said these things to him? Well, it shouldn’t surprise him that Aziraphale got noticed. But did anyone _actually_ speak like this!?

Aziraphale started undoing Crowley’s belt, wrestling the demon’s attention back to the matter at hand. It seemed that, perhaps, the blasted angel was finally done ‘savouring’ because as soon as the belt was unfastened those neatly manicured fingers made short work of his fly and started pulling his jeans down his legs. Crowley toed his shoes off quickly so the angel could pull the trousers all the way off. The socks were next and finally Crowley was naked save for his scarf and his pants. 

Aziraphale eyed the demon speculatively and Crowley propped himself up onto his elbows and warily watched him right back. The angel’s lips twitched and his eyes shone with humour and Crowley hissed at him in warning.

“Don’t,” he demanded, trying to fight his own grin. “Don’t you dare say another bloody line like that when you’re standing between my legs. Not when I’m nearly naked and can’t properly defend myself!”

“And what gorgeous legs they are,” Aziraphale smiled, tracing his fingers slowly up Crowley’s inner thighs and drawing a low moan from the demon even as he waited for the awfulness he sensed was coming. “I want to wear your thighs like earmuffs,” Aziraphale smirked down at him and Crowley barked a true laugh despite himself.

“Please. No more,” Crowley snickered. “My cock is so confused.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” Aziraphale smiled. “Less chance of a ‘repeat of last night’, as you said.”

“Oh well, so long as all that terribleness was for _my_ benefit,” Crowley rolled his eyes before grabbing the angel’s wrist and pulling him onto the bed. Aziraphale gave an undignified squawk and tried to snare Crowley in his arms as he tumbled, but the demon was faster and twisted them so their positions were reversed. 

Aziraphale pouted up at him, opened his mouth to start bickering, but Crowley cut him off by sinking to his knees. Aziraphale sat up quickly, eyes wide as the demon slowly drew the angel’s knees apart.

“May I?” Crowley begged. “Please?”

Aziraphale gave him a considering look so Crowley rubbed his cheek against the angel’s knee and gazed at him with pleading eyes. 

“On one condition,” Aziraphale finally agreed. “I want you to work yourself open while you do it. Make yourself ready for me.”

“Ffffuck…” Crowley groaned, resting his head against the angel’s thigh as he grappled with his self control. He had no idea where the Heaven _that_ had come from but he loved it!

“Do you agree to my terms?” Aziraphale asked, as if he didn’t know. Crowley reached up to pull the angel’s braces down his arms before opening his fly. “Not yet,” Aziraphale stopped him. Crowley whined and looked up at him for explanation. “You first,” the angel ordered, pointing down at the demon’s covered hips. 

Crowley removed his pants quickly and returned to kneeling wearing nothing but his silver scarf and a massive erection. He kept his eyes downcast, afraid he might come undone seeing those pale eyes rake over his naked body.

“Now?” he appealed, breathlessly.

“Yes, Crowley,” Aziraphale told him and Crowley dove forward at once, mouthing the angel’s erection through the layers of fabric and thrilling at the heat, and the rising scent of lust. He heard Aziraphale’s gasp and moan, and nuzzled himself closer, gently massaging the inside of the angel’s thighs with his eager hands. _His_ angel. _His angel!_ His angel was here, letting him do _this. Letting him!_

Crowley whined helplessly and rubbed his tongue against the underside of the clothed bulge, breathing in the scent of Aziraphale's arousal and wanting more _—needing_ more— but still so afraid of moving too fast. This was happening! _It was, right? Was he dreaming again?_ No, his dreams never smelled like this, never had the faint taste of salt through layers of cotton and linen. 

“You really are a fiend,” Aziraphale groaned, then there was a snap and the remainder of the angel’s kit was off, neatly folded beside the bed. Crowley jumped slightly in surprise as his tongue went from licking against sopping wet fabric, to hard, velvety cock. He pulled back at once, eager to see it, and wasn’t disappointed. It suited Aziraphale perfectly, thick and grand, nestled in a halo of golden curls. 

“What was that you were saying about _savouring things_ , Angel?” Crowley licked his lips and smirked up at the blonde. It may have been a mistake because the sight made his cock twitch with another jolt of arousal. 

Aziraphale was sublime, his broad chest covered in thin white hair looked surprisingly muscular and the tummy exquisitely soft. He was beautiful and perfect, all the more so because of the heat in his eyes and the lust radiating off him in waves. Blue eyes, dark with desire, watched him, a pink tongue darted out to wet parted lips. _Oh yeah. ‘Savouring’ could go hang!_ Crowley immediately shut the fuck up and closed his mouth around that gloriously heavy prick.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped. “Oh that’s… that’s wonderful.”

Crowley smiled to himself at that and began a light suction, wrapping his long tongue around the shaft. Azirapahle thought _this_ was wonderful? He had no idea what he was in for.

“Don’t forget, darling,” the angel reminded him. “I want you nicely prepared for me when I’m ready for you.” Crowley moaned as the words sent a jolt of excitement through him. Azirapahle groaned with him, his fingers flying to Crowley’s head and tightening in his hair. “Best get on with it, Crowley,” he sighed. “I may be ready sooner than you think.”

Fortunately for them both, Crowley was excellent working on a clock. He snapped and miracled his fingers slick before bringing his hand down to circle his own entrance. He took a deep breath through his nose and pushed two fingers up inside himself, grunting and moaning at the sensation of being filled and stretched while sucking off the love of his life. 

“Oh, OH!” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley moaned around his cock. “Yes, my sweet. Oh, you look so beautiful, Crowley. So lovely like this.”

Shit, this was good! Crowley sank himself down on his own fingers several times, bobbing his head on Aziraphale’s erection with the same rhythm before adding a third finger. It was still a bit too soon, too tight and the stretch burned. Crowley’s skin broke out in a sweat at the sensation and he shivered. It was intense, and so so _so bloody good!_

He was drooling at his point, but too dazed to care. He sank his head forward, sucking Aziraphale down into his throat to swallow around him, loving the way the angel cried out for him and yanked his hair. Crowley fucked his fingers harder, working over the angel’s cock until Aziraphale abruptly covered his face with a hand and shouted, “Stop!”

Crowley let the sweet erection slide out of his mouth as Aziraphale shifted on the edge of the bed. “Get up here please,” he was instructed and Crowley rose on wobbly legs and leaned into the angel’s strong arms. He was lifted easily and helped to straddle Aziraphale’s hips. His knees sank into the mattress, but the rest of his legs were sans perch, making Crowley feel unbalanced and hook his ankles over Aziraphale’s knees.

“Bit precarious…” he warned.

“I have you, darling,” Aziraphale promised. “I won’t let you fall.”

“He says to _the_ _demon_ ,” Crowley snorted, smirking. Aziraphale blushed slightly and shot him a look that he probably hoped looked cross, but just looked a bit fond. 

“I _might_ drop you after all if you keep that up,” he threatened, but the hands on Crowley’s hips were firm and steady and if Crowley had intended a witty comeback the notion flew from his mind as Aziraphale lowered him into place on his erection. 

“Ah… Ah… Angel!”

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked.

“Gnnn… no, jusssst… slow.” Crowley groaned realizing he hadn’t done a good enough job preparing but not wanting to stop. Aziraphale brought his hips back up, easing the pressure.

“Lean forward, darling,” Aziraphale told him. “Kiss me again, please.”

Crowley obeyed happily, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s strong shoulders and kissing him hard and desperate. He parted the angel’s lips and licked against his tongue, moaning as Aziraphale worked his way in slowly, inch by inch, as Crowley relaxed around him. He lost control of the kiss, moaning loudly and letting his head fall back as he bottomed out on Aziraphale’s lap.

“Ahhh…” he groaned. “Bloody _HELL_ that’s good!”

“It is indeed,” Aziraphale agreed, his voice tight. “Are you all right, my love? Are you ready?”

_My love._ “Fuck!” Crowley cried. “Yes!. Fuck me now, Please! Shit! Yes!”

Aziraphale lifted him again by the hips and dropped him down again, and again and again, setting a slow but hard rhythm that had Crowley crying out and digging his nails into the angel’s shoulders. Aziraphale was thrusting up into the demon with each downward motion, nudging his prostate and making his body sing with pleasure. 

“Angel! Angel! That’s it! More please, Harder!”

Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise and he lifted Crowley nearly all the way off before slamming him back down. Crowley cried out, begging for more and Aziraphale delivered, kissing his throat, licking over his chin as Crowley panted open mouthed, moaning loudly, louder still as Aziraphale fucked himself hard into the demon’s body.

Aziraphale was chanting his name. “Crowley. Crowley. My Crowley. Crowley…”

It was too much. That softness on top of the intense _coring_ he was receiving split him apart and Crowley came with a strangled scream, clenching himself around Aziraphale’s erection and spilling hot and hard between them. Aziraphale fucked him through his orgasm, exactly like he’d hoped, and he cried out again in pleasure, begging and pleading for something, he knew not what. 

Then Azirpahale shouted wordlessly and thrust up hard, flooding Crowley’s guts with an intense heat and _that!_ He was begging for _that!_ He clung to Aziraphale as the angel moaned and shivered and shook apart. He was still blissfully out of it when the blonde finally sighed and dropped back onto the bed, dragging Crowley with him. 

He groaned at the loss as Aziraphale slipped out of his body, but he was being kissed again Crowley decided he liked that very much. The languid, gasping kiss, the warm fingers trailing up and down his spine. It would be just perfect if it weren't for the disconcerting way the bed shook under them.

"Wot's happening?" Crowley asked, confused at the way his voice trembled.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale looked at him with concern and stroked his wet cheeks. Why were his cheeks wet?

Slowly his post-orgasmic brain started to manage the math and Crowley was horrified to realize he was _crying!_

"It's all right, darling," Aziraphale gushed, his own eyes wet with emotion now. 

_No! Gross! I'm not crying!_

Crowley quickly turned away and used a couple quick demonic spells to calm his nerves and dry his malfunctioning eyes. Feeling more in control he turned back to Aziraphale and took the angel's hand. "Still awake, see?"

Aziraphale squeezed his fingers and smiled but seemed willing to overlook Crowley's weird moment of weakness. "I'm glad," he whispered. "As sweet as you look sleeping—"

"M'not sweet," Crowley interrupted automatically.

"You surprised me with a bouquet of hand picked flowers, Crowley," Aziraphale laughed. "That was very sweet!"

"Nicked them from Anthony's garden," Crowley said dismissively, but he couldn't stop his stupid blushing smile at having pleased Aziraphale. Didn't even matter that it wasn't technically his idea at all. "He's gonna lose his mind when he sees what I've done. Serves him right for being a twat."

"Ah," Aziraphale nodded. "You were purely being juvenile and spiteful, is that it?"

"Yeh," Crowley murmured, nuzzling into Aziraphale's warmth and tucking himself tightly against the soft chest and tummy he was admiring earlier.

"And you're definitely not _snuggling_ at the moment?" Aziraphale chuckled.

"You're catching on," Crowley nodded. "You really _are_ very clever, Angel, no matter what they say."

"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale kissed the top of his head and Crowley closed his eyes in contentment. "Wait…" Aziraphale startled. "No matter what _who_ says!?"

Crowley tucked his head down into the duvet and smiled.

  
  
  
  
  



	12. Another Kind Of Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony makes a wager that lands Crowley in hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a quick chapter to transition from the meaningful stuff back to the stupid stuff.

Crowley had never really understood the extent to which his mind could dream up confusing scenarios. He knew, intellectually at least, that he was good at concocting convoluted schemes, but he’d rarely found himself in a state of stillness that would allow that convoluting to turn inward. 

And by rarely, he meant, never. Never ever. If Crowley was still for too long then Crowley was _asleep_ . And not just any old _asleep_ either, but the long, could-easily-pass-for-dead sleep in which he never even dreamed.

But now he was pressed against the wonderfully warm skin of his favourite person and his muscles had been relaxing one by one as he came down from his orgasmic high. Crowley could beg his body to nod off, but his mind wouldn’t dream of it. There was convoluting to do! So, powerless to do anything but obey, Crowley laid there and thought about where he was.

On the one hand, he didn’t see how being wrapped in his angel’s arms like this could be anything but a good thing. He’d dreamed of having this! Anthony had this! Aziraphale seemed to want it too, so how could it _not_ be a good thing?

On the other hand, it did seem to have happened oddly fast. One day they were the same barely-friends they’d always been, then a kiss happened, the massive upheaval of a new universe, and then Aziraphale was bringing Crowley to orgasm in a strange bed. That couldn’t be natural, could it?

But on some metaphysical third hand, maybe it was just fear, or stubborn habit that held them back from embracing each other long ago, and meeting the husbands was exactly the jolt they needed to get the ball rolling? Crowley had barely admitted his deep feelings to himself, let alone been willing to tell Aziraphale that he loved him. Maybe it was the same for the angel?

And if you can have a third hand, then why not a fourth? If they needed the kind of jolt that came from being sucked into a parallel universe, then how could this be part of the Plan? As much as Crowley hated to admit it, the fact that they still had their powers seemed to suggest that they were still instruments of Heaven and Hell, even if they didn’t work for Head Offices directly anymore. If there was a Plan, and they went against it, what were the consequences?

And on a fifth hand (that wasn’t a hand at all so much as an erect cock that roamed around Crowley’s consciousness like a perverted Roomba), why should he, a demon, be having a mental crisis when he could instead be fucking the gorgeous creature beside him, and then hopefully everyone else in this cottage too?

But then the biggest hand of all, the one Crowley used to give himself a good slap whenever he was getting carried away, came down hard on all the others. Yes, Crowley was a demon. Crowley was damned. Being damned meant not having a happily ever after. Full stop. 

Crowley wriggled backwards a bit until he was able to look up at Aziraphale’s face. The angel smiled at him and stroked his hair. Crowley gave him a cheeky smirk in return and dove back on top of his soft warm body, enjoying the pleased giggling that provoked. He flicked out his long tongue and swept it across that warm skin, dipping it into the navel until those giggles turned into gasps and moans. He tongue fucked the angel’s navel until Aziraphale couldn’t stand it anymore, and a strong hand finally gripped his hair and guided his head lower. Crowley moaned as he took that beautiful erection into his mouth and lavished all his adoration upon it.

This would end all too soon, one way or another, but bless it, Crowley was too weak to be the one to end it.

"Oh…" Aziraphale gasped. "Oh Crowley… your mouth is…"

Crowley looked up to see Aziraphale watching him with lust-filled eyes. _Well well,_ in that case Crowley would happily put on a show. He opened his mouth wider so Aziraphale could see how the head of his cock rested on the pillow of Crowley's tongue. The angel's eyes widened and his cheeks pinkened. Encouraged by that pretty reaction, the demon slowly moved his head forward, sliding the thick cock along his tongue until it nudged the back of his throat. 

"Oh! Oh Crowley!" Aziraphale whined, raising his hand in a bid to slow down. Crowley froze, disappointed. "Oh… do be careful, won't you? I don't want to hurt you."

Hurt him? Crowley arched an eyebrow at that. "What exactly was it about what I was doing that made you think I was in pain?" he sneered.

"For a moment I wanted to push myself against your…" Aziraphale clearly reached the bounds of his propriety so he trailed off with a vague squeamish shrug.

"S'all right. M'not gonna break," Crowley snorted. "No gag reflex."

"Oh?" Aziraphale reddened. 

"Was about to prove it before you started being a prat so… can I get back to what I was doing or do you want to talk more?" Crowley teased, giving the hard prick in front of him a playful lick.

"It's only that I don't see how you can say the safe word with your mouth so thoroughly occupied and—"

"We have a safe word?" Crowley blinked.

"No. We _need_ one but…"

Crowley smirked. "You gettin' ahead of yourself, Angel?" It was just like Aziraphale to get bogged down in the details. Unfortunately whenever he got flustered like this it was impossible for Crowley not to pick on him. "If I get into any trouble with you in my mouth I'll just bite your prick off. That should do the trick, yeh?"

"Oh, well that makes me feel _much_ better, thank you," Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "If it's all the same to you I think we'll just forgo this particular act from now oOoonnn!! _Oh Oh! CrowleeEEE!!"_ Aziraphale's snark cut off into a comical squeal as Crowley sucked his erection down to the root. 

_Right_ , Crowley thought proudly. _That's enough whinging for now._

"Oh, Lord, I take back every bad thing I've ever said about your mouth," Aziraphale moaned, falling back into the bed in rapturous pleasure.

"Mmm?" Crowley questioned, flicking his tongue out to lick around the angel's soft bollocks.

"Ah! Oh yes!" he cried. "Oh! In my defense though, I don't think it has ever been so nice to me before!"

"Om noh niemff" Crowley answered around the hot prick in his mouth which hopefully Aziraphale properly translated to _'I'm not nice.'_

Aziraphale laughed around his moans and Crowley blushed and growled around his mouthful. Aziraphale immediately choked on his giggling and came with a strangled cry, spilling down the demon's throat. Crowley sucked him gently through the climax, swallowing generously until the angel slid out, soft, limp, and satisfied.

"See?" Crowley gloated pointing to his smirking mouth. "Not a drop spilled."

“You’re a fiend,” Aziraphale gasped out. Crowley patted his knee before rolling off the bed. He considered a shower but decided to snap himself clean and dressed instead, still unsure how at-home he was expected to make himself. 

“Did you not want me to return the favour?” Aziraphale asked, seemingly distressed to see the demon in clothes. 

“S’not a tit for tat thing, Angel,” he snorted. 

Or was it? Crowley frowned, quickly turning away to hide it. If this was just about getting their jollies with each other, then maybe reciprocity should be expected. He thought it was deeper than that but maybe he misunderstood? No… surely this was just as new to Aziraphale as it was to him and the angel was just worried about _using him_ or some such nonsense. That was more in line with the Aziraphale he knew.

“I smell breakfast downstairs anyway and you must be famished,” Crowley suggested, turning back with his signature smirk back in place. “And you can ‘return the favour’ when you get your strength back.”

“Oooh,” Aziraphale wiggled adorably and Crowley snorted again. The angel freshened up with a miracle as well and dressed then summoned a vase and water for the bouquet. Crowley watched the way the blonde fussed with the flowers and begrudgingly admitted to himself that Anthony had indeed had a good idea. Repulsed by that notion, Crowley quit the room. He paused before reaching the stairs when he heard Zira and Anthony bickering below.

“I already said I don’t remember, din’I?” Anthony growled. “Badgering me isn’t gonna change that so just sssod off.”

Crowley crouched down to peek down the stairs then looked over his shoulder as Aziraphale joined him, pressing a silencing finger to his lips. He half expected an argument or at least a quiet admonishment against spying on their hosts but Aziraphale simply nodded and listened with him. Crowley clearly wasn’t the only one who was curious about these seemingly perfect versions of themselves.

“I wish you’d at least try,” Zira was chiding his husband. “If we have any hope of sending them back where they belong safely we—”

“S’not like that was a great time for me, Angel,” Anthony hissed. “Don’t like thinking on it that much, really. What does it matter anyway? Why do I have to do this right bloody now?”

“It certainly wasn’t my favorite time either!” Zira argued. “You broke my heart so many times and— “

“ _I_ broke _your_ heart?” Anthony laughed bitterly. “Do you not bloody know that I still have nightmares about that fucking bandstand?”

“Really, Crowley,” Zira scoffed. “It has been over 30 years. I’m dead tired of apologizing for that. We’re digressing anyway and this isn’t helping. It isn’t the heartache that matters now. It is how we overcame it and merged our powers. That is what they need to do now, remember?”

Crowley traded a bewildered look with his angel who mouthed “merge?” back with an expression of naked fasciation. (Crowley added that fascination to both his growing lists of _What Is Happening? And What Does That Mean?)_ He expected the angel to be horrified at the prospect of entangling his angelic-celestial magic with Crowley’s slimy occult power. The idea of staining any part of Aziraphale’s blazing nature with his sulphuric essence made Crowley want to wretch. Once again his angel surprised him.

“They’re not ready for that , Angel,” Anthony insisted. “I know you’re excited, but you need to slow down.”

“They’re together now,” Zira exclaimed.

“They’ve _fucked_ , sure,” Anthony retorted. “And that’s something, but I can guarantee you Red is telling himself not to trust it means the same thing to the angel; that he’s still unworthy of his love because he’s Fallen. I’d wager whatever time he spends with his brain not blown apart by orgasm is spent telling himself he’s endangering Aziraphale, or that he’s cursed or some fool nonsense.”

Crowley felt himself flush with humiliation and quickly shot a sideways glance at Aziraphale. The angel was watching him now with a concerned look. 

“Is that true?” Aziraphale whispered.

“No,” Crowley lied, shaking his head. Aziraphale didn’t look convinced. Crowley abruptly decided this bout of espionage was over and strode down the stairs.

"Morning," he drawled to the other demon and angel who were both eyeing him suspiciously. He probably shouldn't have come out of hiding so suddenly if he wanted to create the illusion he hadn't been listening, but the guilty expression on Aziraphale's face as he followed Crowley down would have given them away anyway. 

"How much of our argument did you hear?" Zira huffed, flushing the same shade of pink as his counterpart.

"Were you arguing?" Crowley asked innocently through his smirk. He had no intention of involving himself in their spat so he kept moving to the kitchen. He was elated to see there was a pot of coffee waiting for him.

"We didn't hear very much," Aziraphale promised, making the mistake of stopping to chat. "We just got up and Crowley mentioned he could smell breakfast and I was rather famished…"

"Oh I bet," Crowley heard the leer in Anthony's voice and froze, coffee pot in one hand, cup in the other, to glare towards the other room. 

He heard Aziraphale nervously clear his throat and all at once pictured them snogging in the corridor upstairs.

"Y'want some coffee, Angel?" he shouted, making his presence known, just in case anyone forgot about him. All three of them joined him in the kitchen.

"I'll have tea, thank you," Zira answered, knowing full well who Crowley had been speaking to. 

"Tea sounds lovely," Aziraphale agreed. Crowley poured the coffee into the mug anyway and offered it to Anthony with an arched eyebrow. Anthony wordlessly took the cup and returned to lurk near the entryway. Crowley poured another for himself.

"I apologize if our… discussion bothered you at all,” Zira continued, busying himself with the tea. Anthony snorted. “We were trying to make a plan for how to return you to your own realm but we’ve come up against a rather stubborn wall.”

“Never been called a ‘wall’ before,” Anthony smirked. “Oi, Red. Mind if I have a word with you in private about the state of my bloody garden?”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale shuffled closer to Crowley. “I hope you aren’t too cross. He made a lovely bouquet for me and it really was very sweet. He meant well, truly.”

“Crowley started making a “Nnnnnnn” noise low in his throat at the word ‘lovely’ which only grew louder at ‘sweet’ and ‘meant well’. Insufferable angel.

“Doesn’t matter what he bloody meant!” Anthony seethed, really laying it on. “My garden is still a mess, innit?”

“S’good to cull the frippery out of there anyway,” Crowley shrugged. “Growing _flowers_. Honestly. Y’Call yourself a demon.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched and Crowley realized he may have touched a real nerve.

“If you two are going to battle it out again, would you mind doing so in serpent form on some sheets?” Zira asked with a wry grin. “At least then you’d provide us some entertainment.”

Crowley gaped at Zira for a moment before turning a betrayed look on Anthony. “You _told_ him about that?”

“About what?” Aziraphale asked, the only one not in the loop and upset about it.

“Well you see, Red,” Anthony sneered at him. “When two beings care for each other very much they will occasionally tell one another about their day.”

“They tried to brawl in their snake forms on the bed upstairs and neither of them could get any traction,” Zira explained to Aziraphale who broke out in a wide grin. Crowley turned his glare on Zira.

“Yes, I’d very much like to see that,” Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley rolled his eyes and sulked.

“You sure there isn’t another kind of battle you’d rather see, Angel?” Anthony asked Aziraphale, his voice dripping with innuendo. His heated look slid over to Zira then with a raised brow and a correction. “ _Angel_ _s_?”

Crowley looked between Anthony and the angels and back, confused. He just wanted to drink his coffee! Could everyone just stop being weird for five minutes? He took a sip anyway, hoping for the best.

“The snake fight on the sheets wasn’t the only thing we got up to yesterday,” Anthony drawled. “If you want a show, we can give you a show.”

Crowley spluttered into his cup. "Wot?!"

"I'm just pointing out other options," Anthony shrugged, feigning innocence. "Could even put a little wager on it, just to make it interesting."

Crowley was about to spontaneously combust. He just knew it. There had to be smoke pouring out of ears at this point. His brain was melting.

"Are you suggesting…" Aziraphale trailed off, turning very pink. Zira seemed just as flushed.

"Make it interesting?" he chuckled weakly. You're suggesting watching you two make love wouldn't be interesting enough as it is?"

" _Let's just pretend that isn't what he's insinuating and try to have one interaction between all of us that isn't bloody awkward,"_ Crowley tried to say. Unfortunately his tongue got stuck to the roof of his mouth while his prick inflated like a helium balloon in his trousers, so once again, all he managed was "Ngk!"

"’ _Make love’_ ," Anthony laughed. "No no. I'm suggesting _I fuck him through the floor._ " The dark haired demon tossed Crowley a wink as he sauntered over to Zira to place a light kiss on his cheek. "Only person I'll ever _make_ _love_ to is you, Angel," 

"Oh?" Aziraphale piped up, disappointed. Anthony looked wide eyed over his shoulder at the other angel and it was Anthony's turn to " _Ngk_!"

"What sort of wager were you thinking of?" Zira asked, smiling kindly at Aziraphale. Crowley just stared at all of them wishing he could say something, _anything._ Instead he continued to stand beside Aziraphale, holding a full cup of coffee he couldn't bring himself to drink, while he slowly died of horniness.

"Uh…" Anthony uttered, still apparently blue-screened by Aziraphale's query. 

"Aziraphale?" Zira passed the angel a cup of tea. "Would you join me in the garden? We can discuss this wager in private."

"Of course," Aziraphale nodded, accepting the tea and the apparent insanity. The angels left the demons to stew in the kitchen.

“Wot. The. Unholy. Bloody. Hell!?” Crowley hissed at Anthony after a full minute of rebooting. The other demon scratched his head as if trying to puzzle out exactly when he lost control of the situation.

“Er,” he stammered. “So…” he finally looked up at Crowley, dark glasses to dark glasses and continued lightly. “So the flowers worked a treat, didn’t they? You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to murder you,” Crowley promised him in the same light tone. “You’re going to die screaming.”

“Oh look, don’t be like that,” Anthony drawled. “Is there really a way this won’t work in our favour? I mean, think about it.”

“Nuh,” Crowley shook his head violently. “Too much to process. Can’t see Angel going for it anyway. You’re going to humiliate one of us, if not _both_.”

“Bah!” Anthony waved that away. “Your angel was into it. I could tell.”

“Ngggg,” Crowley groaned, dropping into a kitchen chair and slumping over his confused erection. “What kind of wager were you going to try to make anyway?”

“Well, just… I mean, obviously I’d last longer,” Anthony smirked. Crowley glared at him. 

“Am I supposed to be offended and argue? You have centuries of practice!” Anthony frowned and stared at him as if honestly surprised Crowley would acknowledge this discrepancy. “Oh you _have_ been away from Hell for a long while. Lemme remind you that it is very stupid for a demon to enter into a contest he isn’t sure he can win!”

Anthony shrugged and leaned back against the counter, making no attempt whatsoever to hide his own tented erection. Crowley chewed his lip and set his forehead down on the table.

It was another fifteen minutes or so before the angels returned, grinning.

“We’ve decided on the wager,” Zira proclaimed. “Whosoever lasts the longest will have the honour of—”

“Ha!” Anthony barked, grinning maniacally.

“I forfeit!” Crowley announced into the tabletop.

“Oh, well…” Zira stammered after a pause. “Then… I suppose _my_ Crowley is the victor.”

“Whooo!” Anthony cheered. Crowley began his murder plans: Step one would obviously be to lure the demon away from his Principality husband, but that shouldn’t be too difficult to manage what with him being a colossal fucking idiot. Then, just So Much Stabbing. _‘Oh, has Anthony not come back yet? How strange. No, I haven’t see him…”_

“Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured beside him. He lifted his head off the table as his angel took his hand. “Won’t you try? You didn't even hear what the prize was.”

“He’s got so much more control than I do, Angel?” Crowley began. “Wait… there’s a _prize?_ ”

“I believe the French call it a ‘menage a trois’,” Aziraphale lowered his voice conspiratorially as though everyone in the room couldn’t hear him.

“The prize is a _threesome_?” Crowley snorted. 

“One demon between two Principalities,” Zira confirmed meaningfully and Crowley nearly combusted again. “And the one who _doesn’t_ last gets to watch from the other side of the room with April and Sean.”

“Oh bloody Hell,” the Crowleys complained in unison as the stakes rose even higher. 

“Do you still forfeit?” Zira asked him sweetly. 

“He does,” Anthony interjected quickly. “No hope in winning anyway, yeh? Why embarrass himself. Where are we doing this? Bedroom?”

Both angels ignored Anthony, watching Crowley and waiting for his answer. He swallowed thickly. If there was ever a time for him to come up with a convoluted, hairbrained scheme it was right now. 

“Yeh, all right,” he drawled, enjoying the comforting way Aziraphale beamed at him and squeezed his hand. “Now that I understand the stakes better I gotta at least try, yeh?”

Anthony sulked for a second before a slow evil smile crept across his lips.

Shit. Crowley had to come up with that plan fast.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Place Yer Bets Here.


	13. Plans A through E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fells get Breakfast.  
> The Crowleys get Baked.
> 
> We find out who wins the contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is weird. I spent All of last week not being able to string two words together. Now you get two chapters pretty much back to back.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. *evil laugh*

Crowley _did_ finally get his coffee. 

The angels, apparently content with the extent in which they rotated Crowley’s world on its ears, both decided on a hot breakfast in the village and left. Crowley reheated his coffee with a spark of hellfire and fled into the garden with it. 

Here there was peace. Everything, even the bloody flowers, were exceptionally well behaved. It honestly did put his little plant room to shame. Had Anthony always been a better gardener than Crowley? Or was there something about this soil, or this home, or this level of proximity to his angel that made the garden grow like this? Could Crowley have this abundance of life at his fingertips in another three decades? He wanted to believe so. 

He closed his eyes as a breath of seabreeze tickled through his hair. The faint scent of ocean mixed pleasantly with the ambient green and floral garden air and his own dark roast coffee. He took a sip, breathed out, felt a sudden urge to flex and curl his toes into the dirt.

Anthony’s garden was perfect, and while the demonic part of him wanted to tear it apart out of petty anger and jealousy, a much larger part of him _recognized_ this garden as his own somehow. He saw the logic in every single choice made. He noticed and approved of how the chalk loving plants thrived on the outskirts of the gardens (plural, for as Crowley strolled around the premises he now saw that there were separate gardens all over the property!) and how the native wildflowers had been encouraged to grow as a barrier between the wild heath and cultivated parts of the grounds. 

But there were other parts of the gardens where clearly either a lot of soil rehabilitation had occurred or Anthony had done a number of demonic spells, because the chalk- hating plants were thriving as well. 

On the west side of the property there was a large greenhouse, its side windows open to the summer breezes, and Crowley smiled excitedly at the sight, wondering what little leaflings were being started or if there were tropical plants inside. 

More fascinating still, though, was the smaller greenhouse beside it. Its windows were not open, and it was literally covered in demonic and angelic wards. Crowley frowned, puzzled, and sipped his coffee as he contemplated the way the two magics seemed to work together to secure the tiny building. He’d never seen anything like it. He had wards on his flat, and on the Bentley. He knew there were angelic wards all over the Bookshop, although they had long since given up troubling him. 

It had never occurred to Crowley that they could mix their magic. He just assumed it would either fizzle out or explode. Seeing the venture as either pointless or disastrous, he’d never pursued it.

But here it was, angelic and demonic magic, coexisting and cooperating, protecting whatever was growing inside that little greenhouse.

“There you are,” Anthony called behind him a second before the other demon draped himself over Crowley’s shoulders like a dark demonic cloak. “You mad at me?”

“I’m livid,” Crowley grumbled, “but right now I’m more confused by _that_ ,” he pointed at the building.

“S’a greenhouse,” Anthony told him.

“Helpful,” Crowley growled.

“I’d show you, but they’re not ready yet,” Anthony said quietly, his mouth near Crowley’s ear as he continued to lean across his back. “Don’t want to disturb them by opening the door too much. Delicate time right now.”

“Why've you layered so many wards on the place? Wot's in there?” Crowley asked, his curiosity building. He wanted to peer in the fogged glass hoping to even glimpse a shadow, but the wards made him hesitant to get too close.

“Plants,” Anthony told him. Crowley was about to lose it and smash his coffee cup into that smug face but the demon continued. “From Below. And some from Above too. Can’t have any nosey neighbours stumbling in there, so it just looks like another tool shed to the mortals, and is locked up tight as we can make it.”

“You’ve stolen plants from _Hell_?” Crowley croaked, horrified and impressed.

“Yeh. And Heaven, like I said,” Anthony shrugged and finally slid off Crowley’s back to stand by his side instead. “Not like I’m doing all that much cursing, ‘specially with the angel around, but we figured it best to have some reagents on hand in case one of us gets afflicted with something or other.”

Crowley stared at Anthony in stupefied awe for a moment. “That’s brilliant.”

“Wish it was my idea,” Anthony nodded. “That angel of ours is pretty clever. I’m the one who figured out how to make 'em grow on Earth though, so…” he smirked, drawing himself up proudly.

“Is that knowledge you’d be willing to share?” Crowley asked eagerly.

“Not on my fucking life,” Anthony snorted, and Crowley felt another stab of resentment. 

Anthony took his glasses off, polishing them with his tee-shirt, before turning soft topaz eyes on Crowley and smiling at his grimace. “S’not technically _sharing_ , if it’s you, though. You’re me, right? Makes sense that anything that’s mine just be yours?”

Crowley’s anger washed away at once. Anthony was just trolling him again. He had been trolling him since they first met, but there had never been any malice in it. It was just his way. 

It was Crowley’s way too, when he wasn’t being uptight and defensive. He missed just being playful and mischievous and not having to plan three steps ahead and carefully monitor everything and everyone around him. He missed it, and wanted to get back to it. He wanted to… but since he wasn’t there yet he’d keep on guard for both his sake and Aziraphale’s.

“And I suppose you’re hoping I feel the same?” he hinted, cooly. “That wot’s mine is yours?” 

“Not particularly fussed about that either way,” Anthony shrugged. “‘Specially since _nothing_ in this world is _yours_ at the moment.” He slipped his glasses back on. “But since you’re bringing up the angel, lemme just remind you that he’s his own entity, and you should back up and let him breath. He’s not going to pick me over you, dickhead. And s’not like I’m gonna pick him over Zira, so just bloody relax, will ya?”

Crowley bit his tongue, but nodded. Anthony had a point. Aziraphale had been surprising Crowley from the minute he kissed him in the bookshop. It was foolish to assume he knew what the angel was thinking or wanting at this point. He’d been assuming the worst and been wrong over and over. Maybe he _did_ need to relax.”

“Got anymore blunts?” he asked lightly? Anthony snickered.

  
  


Twenty minutes later they were both lounging shirtless and high as soaring gulls in the larger greenhouse.

“I sssstill don’t know what you were thinking,” Crowley was saying. “Just...just… just… offering us up as a show like that!” he gestured wildly. “I thought Aziraphale might faint!”

Anthony laughed loudly. “Right! Right! Right!” he nodded. “He went so white, din’t he? And then so bloody _red!”_ They both laughed far too loudly and for too long and then Anthony had to remove his glasses again to wipe the tears from his eyes. “So… I’ll let you in on a wee secret,” he lowered his voice and waggled his eyebrows. “Sometimes when I get a bit flustered, I just sort of go off. No plan. I just say something I think will be distracting and hope for the best.”

Crowley threw his head back and roared again because he _obviously_ knew that about them, and should have suspected, and also this was a really good smoke.

“So you thought that fucking each other for the viewing entertainment of two actual angels was a less awkward topic than being on smooth sheets in serpent form?!” he exclaimed incredulously when he could breathe again.

“Blimey, Is that wot I was changing the subject from?” Anthony blinked. Crowley nodded emphatically and Anthony bit his lip before snorting and wheezing loudly in inebriated embarrassment. “Ffffffuck… well. Like I said. No plans, eh?”

“Mmm…” Crowley took a sip of his bottled water, grateful they’d thought to bring some in with them while they were sober. It was wonderfully warm and Crowley could luxuriate in here for hours, but the heat and the smoke were bound to make him groggy and headache-y later if he didn’t keep hydrated. “No plan. You sure you din’ have a plan though?” he smiled knowingly. “Maybe… maybe you were gonna throw this contest?”

“Hgnn?” Anthony screwed his face up in incomprehension. “Throw wot contest? The sex one?”

“Yeh, obviously the sex one. Wot other contest have you volunteered us for?” Crowley snorted. “This part of your plan to make me relax? Have me screaming between two angels? Cause… I mean, I might discorporate, but barring that…”

“No,” Anthony, shook his head. “You're misssremembering.” he hissed. “Din’ know ‘bout the prize when I made the wager, remember? Bloody angelsss came up with that bit.”

Crowley blinked, remembering now and he felt himself flush with arousal. He took another drag off his blunt and coughed. “So… I guess this is where I _ask_ you to throw it then?”

Anthony laughed hysterically again, but Crowley didn’t. He waited for Anthony to realize he was serious, which took rather longer than it would have if either of them had been sober. He did eventually though and looked a bit offended.

“So… lemme get this straight… you want me to make myself come first so you can have a threesome with the angels while I’m tied up across the room like a trussed turkey?” he snorted. “Why would I agree to that?”

“I dunno…” Crowley sighed, because he really had no idea why any sane person would. “Just that… you brought me the flowers to help me get together with Aziraphale. You’ve sacrificed something for my benefit before.”

“Right! I did!” Anthony agreed loudly. “So why’d I do it again?”

“Well… we’re not… We’re not… exactly the same level as you and Zira, yeh? I need this! You don’t.”

“Pffff…” Anthony waved his concern away. “Din’t you see how quick those angels were to accept my very diabolical idea?” Anthony smirked. “Oh, I think they were dripping at the notion of seeing us go at it. If anything, they were worried we’d end it too fast.”

“We do kinda race to the finish,” Crowley laughed, remembering their frantic joining on the heath.

“Right?” Anthony grinned sloppily. “So So So so.. SO they come up with the one thing that could make us SLOW the fuck down and try and make it last…”

Crowley gasped in shock. “Bloody Shit! You’re right! They did!” He shook his head and snickered to himself. “Crafty bloody angels.”

“So!” Anthony continued, wagging his finger at Crowley for some reason. “So! They want this right? They want to sssssee it. But they want us too. They want to take us together. So, whoever wins our wager… it won’t be the last threesome! You’ll get another chance…”

Crowley frowned, having not seen where Anthony was going with his revelation and not liking where they ended up. “But you don’t know that. They don’t act like we do when they’re together. They’re not...randy all the time like us. Might be that it only happens once.”

“Not with me in the middle,” Anthony assured him. “I’ll make it good enough that they want more.”

“S’not fair!” Crowley argued. It wasn’t a great point to make against a fellow demon, but it was all he had.

“Don’t blame me,” Anthony shrugged, taking another long pull from his blunt. “I just suggested a lil’ show. S’not my fault the randy angels raised the stakes.”

“I fuckin’ hate you,” Crowley growled, sinking into himself. Plan A: appeal to Anthony’s conscience, failed spectacularly, but he hadn’t really expected it to succeed. He wouldn’t have agreed to if he were Anthony… which he sort of was? Wait...rephrase: He wouldn’t have agreed to it if he were in Anthony’s place. So, on to plan B.

“So wot sort of Hell plants are you growing over there?” he asked innocently.

“Oh ffffuck off,” Anthony retorted. “You’re not bloody cursing me, you imbecile.”

“I wosn’t gonna curse you,” Crowley grumbled, offended. 

On to plan C.

**__________**

Aziraphale was very surprised with how much he was enjoying his morning. The stroll into the village was lovely and while he’d always fancied himself an urban creature, he had to admit that the quiet was rather calming. He enjoyed the fresh air and felt the tightness between his shoulder blades begin to relax.

“I hope you know that we can call the whole thing off at any point,” Zira told him, shattering the comfortable silence that had sprung up between them as they walked. Aziraphale looked over at him, confused. Zira wasn’t looking at him when he spoke, his gaze cast politely ahead as if worried eye contact would constitute peer pressure. “I know we agreed in the garden, about the Crowleys. But if it is too much, or too soon, please know none of us would be the least bit offended to call a stop to it.”

“Do you regret the agreement?” he asked, concerned.

Zira laughed and shook his head. “Me? No. Not at all, although it is kind of you to ask. No, I’m more concerned about pulling you along too quickly. You _did_ ask me to keep your novice level in mind and I admit I’m continuously derelict in that. I let my own enthusiasm carry me away.”

“Oh I see,” Aziraphale had in fact, been trying _not_ to think about the agreement. He knew himself well enough to know he could easily work himself into a flap about it, and he wanted to avoid doing that.

And it was rather a bit more difficult to enjoy a country walk with a heavy erection between one’s legs.

“I appreciate the reminder that I can bow out should I choose to,” he said, hoping to leave it at that. “Personally, I’m more concerned about the Crowleys.”

“How do you mean?” Zira asked, looking surprised.

“Perhaps, I’m more concerned about _mine_ , particularly,” he clarified. “The whole thing was sort of dumped over his head, and I’m a bit worried I cornered him into it.”

“We’ll have to make it clear they can opt out as well, but I think they know that,” Zira told him, kindly. “Crowley has been bashing me about the head to stop fussing over them.”

They turned their conversation to safer, more mundane topics when they came into the village proper and Zira took him to his favourite place to get breakfast. The owner waved to him, and Aziraphale was introduced as Zira’s cousin. They enjoyed their meal in peace, discussing the common points of their history using the usual oblique terminologies (head office, Arrangement, colleagues, other side) they’d always used around human ears. 

The more time Aziraphale spent in his counterpart’s company the more he liked him. He saw the periods of insecurity and fussiness that he, himself, felt so readily. But Zira was also more confident and spoke his mind more freely than Aziraphale felt he could do. 

Comfortable. Zira appeared comfortable with his life. And happy. It was the sort of thing that Aziraphale would contemplate while alone with his books, late at night. He’d tell himself he was comfortable, that he was happy, while simultaneously being terrified of the hubris of such an admission. He was an angel cut off from Heaven! How could he ever be happy? 

That question would no doubt have pained him more if he could say, with any confidence at all, that he had ever been truly happy _before_ being cut off. He was always worried. He found something to be anxious about in every small thing. 

“May I ask you a personal question?” Aziraphale asked his counterpart as they began the walk back to the cottage. “I hope you won’t think me rude.”

“I’d hope you’d be comfortable asking me anything?” Zira countered kindly. “I’m _you_ after all. In a way.”

“In a way,” Aziraphale agreed. “And that’s part of what I’ve been wondering about. You are so much more confident than I am, and I was curious how you do it.”

“Confident?” Zira asked, confused. “How do you mean, exactly?”

“Only that, for me at least, there are always these worries in the back of my mind that have a tendency to spoil my enjoyment of things,” Aziraphale sighed. “And I’ve always been this way, even before Eden.”

“Ah, yes,” Zira smiled sadly. “Still there for me too, I’m afraid. There wasn’t any sudden cure for it.”

“What are you saying?” Aziraphale fretted. “Is this all an act?”

“Is what an act?” Zira chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve made any efforts to mislead you. I have a great deal of worries, not the least of which is a fear of failing you and Red. Of not being able to send you home again.”

“You brought Crowley and I together,” Aziraphale assured him. “That’s _home_ , as far as I’m concerned. Everything else is icing.”

“You sound very _confident_ about that,” Zira smiled at him. Aziraphale rolled his eyes but the other angel continued. “I think it may simply be part of our nature, as Principalities, if not as angels, that we set our own concerns aside when faced with someone else's discomfort. 

“I’m mindful that you and Red must be feeling overwhelmed and untethered. It makes it easier for me, in some ways, to sublimate my own fretful energy in hopes of making things easier for you. But if I have come across as being immensely self-confident and making you feel insecure by extension, please know that isn’t at all the case. Crowley could tell you stories about my failings in that regard at length, I’m sure.”

Aziraphale felt better having heard this, but also worse. It was a special power he had to never be completely satisfied with an answer.

“I suppose I may have been a tad insecure, but that’s hardly a new experience for me,” he admitted. “But the idea that you were comfortable and happy gave me hope.”

“Oh, I’m quite comfortable,” Zira enthused. “And very happy. You didn’t ask about that though. You were talking about confidence, which I’m afraid tends to vary day to day.”

“So how did you become so comfortable?” Aziraphale asked. “In the midst of all these constant worries, how can you find safety from it all and enjoy yourself?”

“Home and husband have helped a great deal,” Zira told him in a tone that suggested that ought to go without saying. “And getting away from London. I kept the shop as a reason to keep going back regularly because I love London terribly and could never leave for good. However the constant noise and business, and fuss, some of the very things I love about it, are also the things that are quite bad for me. Having the cottage as my safe place away from it all, and having the shop as a hobby rather than a lifestyle suits me better.”

Aziraphale considered for a moment how he felt about the notion of moving out of London and felt it quite unnerving. Perhaps this was a way in which he and his counterpart differed.

“As for the anxiety getting in the way of enjoyment…” Zira sighed. “It's difficult to advise you here. Honestly, having a demon as a husband has been a great help, and a great challenge with this part of my existence. He is so good at recognizing when I’m stuck in my worries and pulling me out of my head with his humour and his love. But he also takes great pleasure in tormenting me and driving me absolutely spare.”

“I can see that,” Aziraphale laughed. “I can imagine it being the same for us in time.”

Zira slowed his gait and paused at the little trellis arch that marked the front path of their garden. He gazed across the property towards their cottage with a thoughtful expression and Aziraphale waited patiently, somehow understanding that the angel had just had an epiphany of sorts and was organizing his thoughts about it.

“I trust Crowley with everything,” he said finally. “I didn’t always. I loved him fiercely, _wanted_ him desperately. I thought I trusted him too, but I didn’t. Not really. I’m not sure I trusted anyone after the way the other angels treated me. After the way God and Heaven turned their backs on me. And here was Crowley, saying all the right things. ‘Our Side’. I wanted to believe him, but part of me just couldn’t accept it.”

Aziraphale felt a rush of cold wash over him as he realized that was where he was currently. _Oh._ Zira gave him a sad smile and clasped his shoulder. 

“It will take time. For both of you,” he told him. “And there will be times you think you’re moving backwards. Things you learn about each other, old wounds that re-open, new hurts you’ll deal one another over and over.”

“Wonderful,” Aziraphale grumbled. His day had rather taken an unexpected turn for the worse.

“I don’t imagine it would be any different if you had never kissed him, or accepted how much you love him,” Zira continued. “It is part of having a true relationship with another entity who matters to you. You give them power over you. The power to hurt you. And Crowley _has_ hurt you. And he will again. But he also uses that power to move you forward, to bring you flowers and chocolates and pastries. To find you rare first editions that you thought you’d never have, only to find out years later that he stole it from another collector…”

“He didn’t!” Crowley had surprised him just last month with a book Aziraphale’s research had suggested was unobtainable for the remainder of this century at least. Then, out of the blue, Crowley had “found it”. Aziraphale had, admittedly, not asked any questions.

“The point is, I can afford to be comfortable and happy, because I trust Crowley as my partner as well as my husband and dearest friend,” Aziraphale continued. “He mocks me constantly, but he doesn’t judge me. He makes my life difficult, but he also protects me and comforts me. And he lets me return the favour, which I don’t think Red will allow you yet.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale snorted. “No.”

“Time, I’m afraid,” Zira repeated. “Time, patience, and lots of sex.”

“Oh you,” Aziraphale blushed. “Stop it.”

‘I’m serious,” Zira laughed. “Sex, was our gateway to intimacy, just like bondage was our gateway to communication. He’ll call it _fucking_ , mostly to annoy you, but the way that demon makes love so sweetly, and the unguarded cuddling he does afterwards are beautiful and healing in a way I just can’t adequately describe.”

Aziraphale bit back a small groan. He’d only had a taste of that intimacy so far, but he had noticed some definite snuggling from his demon and it had felt sublime. And the orgasms had been… _wow_ , well worth the wait, certainly.

He wasn’t content to wait much longer anymore, now that he understood what he’d been missing.

“You’re sure you don’t mind…” he began, knowing his cheeks were turning fiery red again. “I mean, should your demon win their contest… You won’t mind… sharing him with me?”

“Lord no,” Zira smiled. “Besides, it is a dream come true for Crowley.” He winked and started down the path to the cottage. “What about you? If yours wins?”

“I’m much more comfortable with the prospect than I was yesterday,” Aziraphale mentioned. “And I’m actually of two minds about him winning. Obviously I desperately want to get my hands on him again and watch him come apart, but I’m also rather fond of the idea of seeing him tied up and desperate.”

“Oh my yes,” Zira growled, his cheeks pink, and his eyes dark. “I see what you mean.” They walked in silence for a bit, each trying to tamp down their arousal. When they reached the front door, Zira grinned and paused again. 

“Well… here’s an idea for you,” he murmured. “I mentioned that demonstration on bondage and control, yes? Well, whichever demon ends up winning the contest could also be the one who ends up bound for the demonstration. What do you think?”

Aziraphale’s erection liked the idea very much. “It… only seems _fair_ really,” he stammered. “Otherwise Anthony might end up being bound up twice and that really would be too much. Crowley would do well for a turn, I should think.”

“An accord,” Zira offered his hand. He had done so when they came up with the prize for the demon’s contest too. It seemed like making these agreements without the demons’ input was turning into a habit. 

Then again, as Zira said, he and Anthony had complete trust in one another. And Crowley wouldn’t be pressured into anything. Aziraphale would see to that.

And it did nicely solve his dilemma about wanting to fuck his demon and have him tied up too.

“We do,” he agreed, shaking his hand.

**__________**

Anthony and Crowley looked at each other for a moment then shrugged. Crowley was relieved, to be honest. 

When the angels had called them into the sitting room to explain their new idea concerning the contest, the prize, and later demonstration, Crowley had been about ready to panic. 

His plan was tenuous at best and he couldn’t handle a thrown wrench at this point. The idea of potentially being tied up and touched while the others looked on wasn’t worrisome in the least. Especially considering in order to reach that scenario he would have already had sex with Anthony in front of both angels, but then had sex with both angels so… yeah…

“S’fine with me,” he told them. “Was worried for a minute, but that seems a lot less bonkers than the last thing you two came up with.”

“Yeh,” Anthony agreed. “I mean, I already figured it would be me tied up for the demonstration, so this doesn’t change anything for me.”

“And we want you both to know that you can bow out of either and all of the activities if you’re uncomfortable,” Zira told them to which Anthony began a tirade of profane mockery and Crowley blew a long raspberry at the angels. 

“That was what I assumed,” Zira continued when they stopped. “Just wanted to be clear that your safety and feelings were important as well and —"

The raspberries started up again louder this time, both demons working together to drown the trite fussiness out. They didn’t let up until Zira rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh so big it could be heard over their mockery. Zira gave them both an unamused look then turned to Aziraphale who was seated on the sofa beside him smiling placidly.

“Anything you’d like to add?” Zira asked.

“No, thank you,” Aziraphale shook his head. His blue eyes were shining and he looked more content then Crowley had seen him in a long time.

“Very well,” Zira exclaimed with finality, patting his own lap to punctuate the statement. A small tea tray appeared between the angels and they each took a cup of tea before turning to the demons.

“You may begin,” Zira told them. Crowley blinked, confused. Begin. Begin what? He didn’t mean… No. Not just like that. He looked to Anthony for some clarification but the other demon had _vanished_ and damned if that didn’t bode well for Crowley. He looked back at the angels in total disbelief. They sipped their tea, pinkies out and everything.

“Nah…” he laughed nervously. “You’re not expecting us to… not like—” he trailed off when Zira started blowing a loud raspberry at him. Aziraphale giggled and joined in. Crowley folded his arms across his chest and glared at them but that only seemed to make them raspberry harder. Sooner or later they’d run out of air, right?

Anthony made the question moot by grabbing him from behind, one hand fisted in his hair while the other pulled at his crotch.

“Jesus!” Crowley swore, startled more than anything at first. 

At first. 

“Ssshhit!” he groaned, already getting hard as Anthony roughly palmed him through his jeans.

“Aww,” Anthony mocked him, dragging his tongue up the side of his throat. “Feel that?” he squeezed again and Crowley’s gasp sounded a bit more helpless than he’d have liked. “Don’t think you’re gonna make it, Red.” 

Crowley fought to stay calm. He knew Anthony would attack hard and fast. Meeting him just as intensely was going to have Crowley spilling his load in minutes. He had to slow himself down, which unfortunately meant no fighting back yet. Anthony dug his socked toes into the back of Crowley’s knee, forcing it to bend, and Crowley tried to shake himself free at that point, afraid of losing what little advantage awarded him by his superior height. 

Anthony’s attack was strategic through and Crowley’s limbs were never all that obedient from the get-go. A little more pressure to the backs of his knees and he found himself folding like a patio chair, and then Anthony was forcing him down onto his elbows.

“I admit, I was expecting a bit more of a challenge,” Anthony growled, draping himself as a deadweight over Crowley’s back while wrapping his arms around his middle in order to work his belt free. 

Crowley ground his teeth, trying to think unsexy thoughts, trying to go _slowly_. Anthony thrust his hand down the front of his trousers, under the waistband of his pants and grasped his half-hard erection tightly. Crowley cried out, despite himself, and finally gave up on his plan to go slow. 

Anthony’s tactic to weigh him down was working, but Crowley, on all fours, was more stable now than he was before. He dropped his shoulder, snarling, and rolled Anthony off him. The raven-haired demon tried to catch himself but Crowley had the higher ground for a few seconds and made use of them. He slid over Anthony, and shredded his shirt, baring caramel skin to his lips and teeth. Anthony swore loudly as Crowley tongued his nipple into firmness.

Anthony, it seemed, wasn’t even going to bother with baring Crowley’s chest. He yanked his jeans down over his hips, dragging his black cotton pants with them and soon a cool draught told Crowley his arse was bare and his cock was hanging, heavy and exposed to the room. 

The thought of how he must have looked to the angels made him groan. Were they still just sitting there, drinking tea? He couldn’t risk a glance in their direction. Anthony would take advantage of any opening, and there was a good chance whatever he saw in the angels’ eyes would undo him.

He plunged ahead with his desperate plan, kissing Anthony furiously while he worked open the demon’s flies. It was a precarious bit of fiddling, but plan D (plan C: Distract the angels with something, had already failed) hinged on getting his mouth on Anthony’s prick as soon as possible. If he could immobilize the other demon with a quality deepthroating, he could keep his own bits mostly out of arm's reach. 

Anthony was breathing heavily, moaning against Crowley’s tongue as he pulled the brunette's prick free as well. For a minute they just adjusted to this, hands on each other's cocks, slow hard strokes, a kiss that went as far as possible and then just got deeper. 

Crowley made his move, sucking a bruise into Anthony’s neck, pinching his nipples until the darker demon howled, then kissing quickly down his chest. Anthony’s knees bent on either side of Crowley’s hips as he bowed his spine, kissing his way lower. 

The demon’s eyes were closed, and he was faintly hissing “yes… yessss...”. Crowley smiled as he kissed the bottom of Anthony’s ribs. The enraptured demon seemed to have temporarily forgotten the contest.

“Your tongue,” Anthony moaned. “Oh Ffffuck, yesss. Use your tongue on me again.”

Crowley chuckled, swirling his tongue over Anthony’s ribs. He lifted up in order to shift himself lower and Anthony’s wings materialized in a spray of ebon feathers. The darker demon laughed, abruptly sitting up, and grabbing Crowley by the hips. Crowley had barely finished his startled exclamation when a ripple of demonic energy vanished his clothing and he was falling backwards. “Bloody He—” _Wham!_ He hit the floor. Anthony and his billowing wings were now on top. 

“Shit!” Crowley’s whine ended in a tortured moan as Anthony’s miracled slick fingers prodded his entrance and slipped inside. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck…” Crowley groaned, pawing at Anthony wherever he could reach. Unfortunately, in this position, there wasn’t much he could reach until Anthony moved closer. He groaned again realizing what it would take for Anthony to move within reach.

“Already pretty loose,” Anthony chuckled against his throat as he rammed in a third finger. “Must have had a pounding this morning, eh? Good. Won’t take me as long to get you ready.”

“Ssshut up,” Crowley moaned, throwing his head back as Anthony worked him open. He needed a Plan E. Something Anthony wouldn’t see coming. Something Crowley knew about that the more experienced demon didn’t. A desperate idea started to take shape and then...

“Hah! Ah!” Crowley cried out as Anthony replaced his fingers with his erection and pushed his way in to the hilt. “Oh Fffuck!” He cried again when the demon didn’t even grant him a chance to get used to the sudden stretch and fullness before he pulled halfway out and slammed in again.

Anthony grabbed Crowley’s knees, pulling his legs around his ribs as he leaned in again and pushed their hips together harder. Colours were swirling behind Crowley’s eyes at the brutal pace. He wasn’t going to last. He knew that now. He was going to lose.

“Ah! Shit! Hhhah! Fuck, YES! Like that! _Yes YES!_ ” he cried, because despite the inevitable loss it still felt bloody amazing to be ravaged like this. He pried his eyes open and smiled at the ceiling as he remembered his stupid plan. It might not work at this point, but why not try? 

Anthony was still wearing his long black tie, so Crowley grabbed it and yanked the demon down so he could breathe into his ear. Anthony laughed and nibbled his shoulder while Crowley’s free hand started palming his arse, jamming his own fingers inside.

“Oh shit, yes,” Anthony moaned against his slick skin and his hips stuttered, trying to press into his fingers at the same time as he was driving his cock into Crowley’s body.

“You never had to know…” Crowley panted into Anthony’s ear. “You had _him_ so you never— Ah! Oh!— you never had to find something _else_ to take his place.” He pressed his fingers in harder, spending a demonic miracle to flood the other demon’s arse with warm lube. Anthony cried out at the sensation of being magically filled. Crowley felt the slickness ooze out of his body between his busy fingers. He kept talking, trying to calm his own racing heart as Anthony snapped his hips and drove himself in again harder.

Crowley snapped, _or tried to_ , (his slick fingers didn’t make a sound, but the magic still did the trick) summoning his favourite toy into his waiting hand. It was big, long, ribbed and purple, and Crowley wasn’t gentle when he pushed it into Anthony’s half prepared hole.

“Holy _FUCK_!” Anthony shouted, driving forward into Crowley and falling still out of shock. Crowley yanked him down with the tie, holding his head down on his shoulder and shoved the toy in to the base. Anthony groaned beautifully, panting harshly. He struggled to get his knees under him pulling out of Crowley a bit, and pushing back against the toy.

Crowley flicked his wrist, rotating the toy before he started a hard fast thrusting motion. Anthony gasped and cried out in pleasure and incomprehension. The raven-haired demon had more experience, thousands of years of fucking his angel. Crowley had no one. No one but himself. 

So he knew exactly how to use the Purple Majesty to maximum benefit. He twisted and pulled and pushed and didn’t let up for an instant. He felt Anthony scrabbling on top of him, inside him, and he felt his own eyes rolling back. He heard his own voice cracking and begging, but they were on even ground now. He could hear it in the hitch of the demon’s breath, in the cadence of his cries. He was close. They both were so close.

But Anthony was a seasoned sub now, right? And Crowley _wasn’t_ . He took Anthony’s earlobe between his teeth, yanked the tie tight around the brunette’s throat and growled _“Come!”_

Anthony obeyed, screaming as he came inside him. The sound, the smell, the feeling of being filled, it took Crowley over the edge too and he plunged into this orgasm seconds later. He cried out, throwing his head back and arching his spine, the toy slipping out between his limp fingers as he bucked up against Anthony and coated them both in his spend.

“Ahhh… wa…” he oozed back onto the floor, worried he might be about to black out. Anthony seemed similarly destroyed and was once again a deadweight on top of him.

“I… I… waaa” he groaned, still unable to make words work. Anthony was making a low noise, either growling or purring.

“You won,” Aziraphale said for him. Crowley opened bleary eyes and looked up at his angel who beamed down at him proudly. “Using that toy at the last minute? Inspired! You wily old serpent. I never doubted you.”

“I won, Angel” Crowley told him, tiredly. 

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale giggled. “I know. You did.”

“A close race though,” Zira said from the sofa, clearly feeling the need to defend Anthony (who might have been asleep? He didn’t seem to be moving.) “It was tight.”

“You’re right about tight,” Crowley laughed. “Your husband might need some ice.”

“Ffffuck offfffff,” Anthony mumbled against his shoulder, proving he was dazed but awake.

“Red has a point,” Zira chuckled, and Crowley could see him now, bending over them to lift Anthony up into his arms. The demon was heavy, but the angel managed to lift him easily. “Aftercare is important. Let’s get you comfortable and I’ll fetch some ice packs for you both.”

Aziraphale helped Crowley sit up, then picked up the large toy from the base. It glistened with lube and was probably still warm from Anthony’s body. Crowley quickly snapped it clean, blushing furiously. Aziraphale holding his dildo was… it was… it was a lot.

“This was your stand in for _me?_ ” Aziraphale asked quietly. Crowley didn’t answer, struck mute by his mortification. The angel smiled slyly at him. “I fear I must have been a real disappointment then.”

“Hardly,” Crowley sighed, falling in love with this bastard all over again. “Bloody superior in every way, but if you’re interested in getting to know it better, I won’t say no.”

Aziraphale set the toy down and stroked Crowley’s hair gently. It felt nice, safe. Then Aziraphale kissed him and that felt even better. He was gathered in strong warm arms and looked over the angel's shoulder at where Zira was now comforting Anthony with cuddles and an ice pack. 

Crowley hid his self-satisfied grin in Aziraphale's shoulder. Anthony looked fully debauched and completely bewildered as if he was still unclear how he had managed to lose.

That felt best of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so nice that the angels are learning about compromise. Not the demons though. Never the demons.


	14. A Most Intense Craving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wants his cuddles. Crowley is largely oblivious, but in his defense, no one gives him time to think anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There’s spanking in this chapter. 
> 
> Note: I’ve been messed up with the worst migraine I’ve had in about a decade for the first half of this week and this was mostly written on my phone once I was able to tolerate screens again. Please forgive me if this chapter sucks or is full of more mistakes than usual. They can’t all be winners…

Aziraphale didn't know where to look at first so he looked at his tea. 

It was a good colour, the perfect amount of milk. It smelled wonderfully comforting and the first sip had been more than satisfactory.

Zira had made the tea. He miracled it to them on the sofa when they were ready, but the _actual_ tea preparation had been done by hand. Even if Aziraphale hadn't watched him do it he'd know by the way it tasted. There was an aftertaste to miracled tea, a leftover of the ethereal trying desperately to be earthly and just not quite managing. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't proper tea.

Aziraphale very much preferred a cup of proper tea. He generally preferred the Earthly to the Ethereal in most things in fact. He had taken to tea at first sip eons ago and considered it one of the things he couldn't be happy without.

One of the other things he couldn't be happy without was currently engaged in an erotic battle for his entertainment and Aziraphale couldn't even bring himself to lift his gaze. So, he sniffed the comforting steam and watched the pale surface ripple as a result of the tremor in his hand. He took a sip, sighed.

Zira gasped beside him and he looked up at the angel. _Zira's_ gaze wasn't locked on his tea but the cup hovered half-way between saucer and lips. His hands trembled slightly as well and his cheeks were flushed as bright pink as Aziraphale's. The tremor and the blush felt like an equalizer between them and made Aziraphale braver. 

He followed his counterpart's gaze to watch as Anthony managed to bully Crowley to all fours.

The tea was gone. Aziraphale didn't drop it, but it vanished nonetheless as instinct had him rise to his feet, ready to protect his friend. Zira's hand on his wrist stopped him, reminded him there was no danger. Flushing with embarrassment now Aziraphale plopped down on the sofa again. He missed his tea.

Anthony was looking at him. The raven-haired demon had caught his movement and although he still blanketed himself across Crowley's back, weighing him down, he paused his assault on Crowley's belt. Topaz eyes watched him warily, the ebon eyebrow lifted in question.

_Are you all right?_

_Is this all right?_

Amazing. Confusing. It was _Crowley_ . _Anthony_ was _Crowley_. It was so clear at times. So confounding and so simple. Of course he trusted Crowley.

Aziraphale smiled and nodded and the questioning expression on the demon's face instantly turned lecherous and he licked his long tongue around Crowley's ear while massaging Crowley's crotch under his trousers.

Crowley's whine was louder than Aziraphale's own, hiding the angel's arousal. Part of him still wanted to turn away. He was embarrassed to be watching this, to be _enjoying this_ . But Anthony's brief check in changed things. The fact that Zira seemed to be in a similar state watching this guilty pleasure changed things. And Crowley's moan _definitely_ changed things. 

He trusted Zira. He trusted Crowley (both of them). He needed to accept that just because something was arousing, didn't mean it was _wrong_.

Crowley flipped Anthony off his back and slid on top of the other demon and Aziraphale pantomimed cheering to Zira's exaggerated displeasure. Aziraphale grinned at his counterpart and instantly a wager of sorts was on between them. 

"Mine will turn this to his benefit," Zira murmured. "Just wait."

Aziraphale watched his own Crowley take control and slow Anthony's frantic pace. Their mouths moved against each other with expert grace. They grasped at each other, sighing and moaning. Aziraphale swallowed thickly and had to loosen his tie. 

Then Crowley was shredding Anthony's shirt, baring more skin than Aziraphale had seen on the demon before. He was beautiful, creamy dark and mouth watering. 

Anthony yanked Crowley's trousers and pants down his sharp hips and Aziraphale felt his eyes leave his skull.

"Oh sweet heaven," Zira gasped beside him. Crowley's arse and glorious erection were on full display while the demons snogged furiously. "How are they so beautiful?"

"I want…" Aziraphale began, but he trailed off not knowing where to begin with this heady desire.

"Yes," Zira groaned, taking his hand in his own. "So do I."

Hand in hand they watched Anthony beg as Crowley kissed his way down his body. They gasped when Anthony got the upper hand (Zira's turn to quietly cheer) and groaned together as Crowley was unceremoniously prepared by devilish fingers. 

"It's all rather rough, isn't it?" Aziraphale murmured. 

"They seem to like it that way," Zira nodded. "Mine at least, although yours isn't complaining."

"I'm not sure I have it in me to be _this rough_ ," he fretted. Would he disappoint Crowley? 

"You may surprise yourself," Zira smiled fondly. "It can be quite fun to give in to the passion from time to time. But I should point out that while Crowley enjoys it rough, that isn't the _only_ way he enjoys sex."

"Well, that's a relief, I suppose," Aziraphale grumbled.

"Part of what I like most about the rougher stuff is the aftercare," Zira continued. "Crowley can be such a bloody grump when I try to take care of him but he laps it up after a bit of rough sex."

"Aftercare?"

"I consider it a chance to tend to the body and the soul," Zira explained. "Clean him up, get an ice pack or a hot bath. Most importantly reassure him that he is safe, loved, and respected."

_Safe. Loved. Respected._ Getting Crowley to feel that would be quite the feat. Aziraphale wasn’t terribly familiar with those feelings himself.

Before them Anthony curled his fingers inside Crowley causing the redhead to buck and cry out, and grabbing the angel's attention once more. He lined himself up, his long darkened cock bunting up against Crowley's pale skin and Aziraphale felt his corporation begin to sweat. 

Once again Anthony looked at him. Aziraphale was reminded of the gladiators of Rome pausing to see the will of the emperor.

The Fells nodded and Crowley was speared. Any guilt Aziraphale had about that was heavily mitigated by Crowley's ardent cries of pleasure. 

Aziraphale couldn't take it anymore. He snatched his hand back from his counterpart and rubbed his aching erection through his trousers while his free hand worked open the flies. Once his cock was free he took it in both hands, shamelessly working himself while watching his Crowley writhe and moan. He closed his eyes in pleasure.

"What on Earth?" Zira gasped. For a moment Aziraphale worried he'd overstepped, but a glance at Zira showed his counterpart had followed suit, flies open and hands full. Then he glanced at the demons again in time to see something large and purple being pushed deep inside an unsuspecting Anthony. 

Crowley's sharp teeth were bared in a grimace of concentration as he thrust the hard toy into his counterpart again and again, making him keen.

"That's it, Crowley," Aziraphale whispered, watching his lover closely as he rubbed himself. He wanted Crowley to win. He wanted him to win so he would have an excuse to touch him, kiss him, make him helpless and drunk on pleasure.

Oh how he wanted! He wanted to see Crowley's long neck arch back, (just like that, yes) mouth open in a tortured cry of ecstasy while Aziraphale pulled orgasm after orgasm from his red quivering body. He wouldn't stop until every inch of Crowley was dripping in sweat and spend. He wanted to own Crowley's pleasure, master it, bestow it like a gift, or...or…

Anthony screamed and Zira grunted beside him, coming across his palms at the sound of his husband's release but Aziraphale barely registered it. He watched Crowley. He watched the hitch of breath, the way he tucked his chin in tight to his throat before throwing his head back in a helpless cry. The way his long body arched violently before falling still in surrender.

He watched even as his own body gave in to the pleasure like an afterthought.

This would become his most intense craving, he just knew it.

"Oh dear, Crowley," Zira fretted, cleaning himself up with a wave. Aziraphale followed suit, clean and buttoned up, before hurrying over to Crowley. Anthony was draped over Crowley and breathing hard, and it sounded very much like the poor dear thing was _purring_ but Aziraphale put that aside in his desire to reassure Crowley of his pride.

"You won," he told his beloved demon. 

"I won," Crowley told him, groggy and sex-drunk. There was a perfunctory bit of banter and then each demon was ensconced in his respective angel's arms and there was something so blindingly beautiful about that it nearly brought Aziraphale to tears.

He loved Zira and Anthony. But Crowley was _his world_. Having this intimacy and understanding between the four of them was glorious. 

"Haaaahh!... cold!" Anthony gasped as a cold pack was placed under his bare rump. Zira shushed him lightly and pulled him into a nice cuddle. Anthony melted into the hug, tucking his nose into Zira's shoulder. The dark demon's cheeks were flushed pink and his half closed eyes were wet. He was embarrassed and disappointed in himself. Aziraphale could tell although he wasn’t sure how. He felt a strong urge to comfort the demon. However, Anthony wasn't the only Crowley in need of an Aziraphale.

Remembering what Zira had said about the importance of aftercare, Aziraphale attempted to scoop Crowley into a similar hold.

"If you try to put an ice pack up my arse I will bite your fingers off," Crowley grumbled. His smile said he meant it playfully, but Aziraphale still felt slighted. He let his arm drop heavily at his side. Crowley had accepted his embrace immediately after the contest. Was the afterglow already gone? Had Aziraphale missed his chance at sharing intimacy? Crowley was watching Anthony and Zira, a slight frown on his face. He seemed particularly concerned about Anthony. Why? Why wasn't Crowley looking at _him?_

"Right, excuse us please," Aziraphale told the others, standing up. Crowley eyed him warily now, which only served to annoy Aziraphale further. He snapped his fingers and Crowley was now cradled in his arms.

"Aziraphale!" Crowley squawked in mortification. _Honestly!_ The bloody demon went ash white! Aziraphale clutched him all the tighter and made for the stairs.

"What's wrong," he growled at the redhead. "You no longer wish my company?"

"Your waistcoat," Crowley whispered. "For fuck's sake, Aziraphale. I just got buggered within an inch of my life! I'm a mess! I'll stain your clothes!"

Aziraphale blinked. " _That's_ what's got you in a flap?"

"M'not 'in a flap'," Crowley growled. " _You're_ gonna be 'in a flap' when you see your waistcoat."

"It will be fine, Crowley," Aziraphale insisted, carrying the maddening demon up the stairs. Crowley wouldn't be swayed.

"' _It'll be fine'_ he says. Like he didn't just about start bawling about a bit of paint on his coat," the fiend growled. "And that was right before the End of Days too and you were _that_ concerned about your bloody coat."

"Honestly, Crowley," Aziraphale snapped. "Do you want me to be upset?"

"You _will_ be upset either way," Crowley grumbled. "And I tried to warn you but you didn't put me down and I can feel it coming out and it is just going to be getting worse! It's bloody embarrassing!"

"I'll miracle it away," Aziraphale huffed.

"But you'll always know it's there…" Crowley sneered. Aziraphale kicked the guest room door fully open and flung the bastard demon onto the bed. He vanished his own clothing before either of them could see how stained his waistcoat may have been. 

Crowley had made an indignant sound when he was tossed, and another when he bounced in an undignified prone sprawl.

So much for safe, loved, and respected. 

Aziraphale crawled over him and grabbed a fistful of red hair and immediately latched onto that long neck with his mouth, sucking a bruise into the pale skin.

"Fffffgnnnn—" Crowley groaned, shuddering in pleasure. If Crowley wouldn't accept his aftercare without the afterglow, then Aziraphale would bloody well give him another damned afterglow. He was getting his cuddles damn it!

"If you fall asleep on me, I will not be held responsible for what I do to you," Aziraphale hissed in his ear. Crowley had the bad manners to laugh. Aziraphale lost his temper and brought his hand down in a slap against Crowley's bottom. The crisp sound of his palm striking flesh snapped Aziraphale back to his senses.

"I'm sorry, I…" 

"Shit! Yes!"

"Oh... Yes?"

Crowley had gone very still, his face buried in the duvet, but he was blushing furiously if the bright red of his ears was any indication. 

A surprise to him too then? Poor demon must have been learning just as much about himself as Aziraphale was. It must be very difficult for him, given his overabundance of pride and snark. Aziraphale should be gentle with his feelings. 

Instead he brought his hand back down in another experimental swat. Crowley jumped and writhed and gasped. Aziraphale felt the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk as he spanked Crowley one more time. Crowley moaned, finally taking his face out of the blanket. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, as he drew a quick shallow breath.

"Bloody— shouldn't be so— Nnnn…"

"Do you want more?" Aziraphale asked gently, lightly trailing his fingers across the pinkened skin.

"A bit…" Crowley nodded. Aziraphale assumed that meant the demon wanted it but didn't want to want it. A feeling Aziraphale was becoming very familiar with. Why was it so difficult to accept their desires? Why did they have to complicate everything? Why couldn't they just _be?_

Because. Because they were who they were. Aziraphale was a persnickety worrywort and Crowley was a snide, cynical, prat.

Well, Aziraphale was tired of letting his worries hold him back. He was a being who _wanted_! And Crowley wanted too, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. 

"The safeword is 'octopus'," Aziraphale told the demon waiting for the golden eyes to narrow in a sneer. There it was. _Smack!_ Crowley gasped and arched his back, pressing his bottom against Aziraphale's palm. "The safeword is 'octopus'," he told Crowley again. "Say it." 

Crowley smirked and Aziraphale spanked him again. He was suddenly of a mind to erase the demon's ability to sneer at him in bed (he was wise enough to know snideness was part of Crowley like worry was part of him, but he suddenly decided neither had a place in their bed!). And the way the demon's round arse was warming and turning pink under his hand _was_ rather fetching. Perhaps Aziraphale had a rough streak in him after all. 

He could always say it was in the pursuit of cuddles.

__________

  
  
  


"Say it," Aziraphale ordered again followed by another stunning whack to Crowley's already bruised backside. Then another and another and another! Crowley yelped and moaned then finally relented. "Right. The safeword is 'octopus', Angel. Happy?"

"Yes," Aziraphale told him and he squeezed one of Crowley's arse cheeks, rolling the muscle under his palm in a light massage. It felt.. incredible. Crowley was exhausted, overstimulated, and painfully hard again. 

Spanking! Of-bloody-course he'd get off to spanking. He was fucking ridiculous! He couldn't believe this was happening! How was he ever going to look Aziraphale in the eye again?

"Oh Crowley, you gorgeous thing," the angel groaned behind him. The angel's weight shifted on the mattress and then Crowley felt his hips straddled by plush thighs. Warm hands rubbed down either side of his spine, firm fingers digging into sore muscles as Crowley groaned in both pleasure and frustration. It felt nice. It felt good even but… Aziraphale had set his soft glorious backside over the back of Crowley's thighs and his thick hot angelic cock was just resting against the crease of Crowley's arse. To say it was a touch distracting would be a massive understatement

Why wasn't Aziraphale fucking him? Or at least kissing him? Why a bloody back massage _now?_

Maybe he was slowing things down after everything. That was fair. Had to be too much for the angel. Too fast. He was just trying to be nice and not let on that he noticed Crowley getting hard as diamond from being tossed around and spanked like a naughty child. Ridiculous! He was ridiculous! Why couldn't he just control his damned cock!

"Goodness Crowley," Aziraphale admonished him. "You might be the only being to get more tense during a massage. Honestly, is my touch that repulsive?"

"Repulsive?" Crowley spat. "Far from it, you fucking tease. Just trying to...nnn nevermind. S'good. M'fine."

"Hmm," Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully a second before grabbing Crowley by the hips and flipping him face up. Crowley tried to protest but only managed a choppy groan as the angel resettled above him, slotting his cock beside Crowley's. 

"I wondered if this was what you were hiding," Aziraphale murmured, taking the demon's erection in his warm hands. "I hoped it was anyway."

"Jesus, Angel," Crowley moaned, hiding his face in his hands. "M'sorry. I'm just…"

"Why on Earth would you apologize to me about this?" Aziraphale asked, drawing his hand firmly up his length.

"Want you, Angel," Crowley admitted. "All the time. Can't help it. I'm just — haaah… please!"

"May I make love to you? Are you too sore?"

"Yes," Crowley moaned. There was a pause while they both tried to figure out which question he was answering. "Bloody— _yes_! Get in there!" Crowley growled, angrily thrusting his hips up. "Fuck me Angel. Use me! I want you to— hhhhrrk!" his jeering floundered as Aziraphale entered his battered hole and the warmth of the angel's healing energy spread through him.

"Oh...Ah! You… you're… are you _healing_ me while you fuck me?!"

"Is that all right?" Aziraphale asked, slowly drawing out and in again. Crowley groaned through his teeth because he didn't want to admit it felt incredible. Didn't want to give the angel ideas.

But it _did_ feel incredible.

"Whatever you want," he sighed. "Just pick up the pace, will ya?'

"Hmmm… no I think I like this pace," Aziraphale chuckled, thrusting in firm but slow and driving Crowley completely spare. "And you _did_ say 'whatever _I_ want."

"Ughn!" Crowley grunted as Aziraphale dragged across his prostate, lighting sparks of pleasure inside him like kindling. "Bastard!"

"Shush dear," the angel chuckled. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

"Hah!" Crowley barked. "S'my job to— Nnng!— to take care of you, _Ang-Nngk_!"

"You do. You have," Aziraphale kissed him and Crowley wrapped himself around the blonde, arms and legs, pulling him closer, deeper. "Oh! Oh! Crowley! You take care of me so well but it's my turn now."

Crowley wanted to argue, felt it was _important_ to keep his role as protector in their arrangement, but he was having a damnable time remembering _why_ at this exact moment.

"We're gonna readdress this later," he grumbled and added a low hiss for good measure when he caught Aziraphale rolling his eyes. The next hiss was involuntary as the angel rocked against his prostate again. 

"Ah! C'mon!" Crowley whined, thirsting up against Aziraphale's hips in a bid to spur him on. "I'm healed! S'good to go!"

"Slowly," Aziraphale whispered before kissing Crowley's ear, ignoring how the demon panted desperately. "I'll get you there, Crowley. I promise. Stop fighting me."

"Y'don't understand, you stubborn Pillock," Crowley growled. "I'm… ah! Haahh! I'm not used to… ooh! H...h… healing and... slow...oh oh!"

It felt amazing, but weirdly relaxing and Crowley understood, deep in his infernal snakey bones that if this kept up he was going to fall asleep after coming! Again! As if once wasn't bad enough. No. Crowley could _not_ fall asleep. At least not until he learned why their sodding safeword was 'octopus'!

" _Get_ used to it," Aziraphale giggled, before sucking another kiss against Crowley's throat. "I'm desperate to have you, darling. To keep you! You have no idea the kind of fantasy I had while I watched you with Anthony."

Oh well now _that_ was interesting. 

"Tell me," he moaned. Aziraphale laughed and thrust a bit harder.

"I couldn't," the bastard gasped into his shoulder. "You'd no doubt find me far too bold."

" _Wot?!_ " Crowley choked mid-moan. "I didn't hear that right. Me? _Me? I'd_ find _you_ too bold?"

"Forget I said anything, won't you?" Aziraphale huffed, snapping his hips firmly the way Crowley had been begging him for before, but it was too late. It was too bloody late to disengage Crowley's interest now.

"Tell me! We can do it! Whatever it is!" Crowley moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure as Aziraphale drove in harder. "I promise I won't lau— Ah! Ah! Holy Hell Angel! Yes! There!" 

The kindling had finally caught and Crowley combusted in pleasure, rocking hard against the angel. Close! So close! _So close!_

"I'm not afraid you'll laugh, Crowley," Aziraphale moaned, reaching between them to palm Crowley's cock. The demon's eyes rolled back as the angel pumped his weeping erection in time to his thrusts. Aziraphale licked the shell of his ear, grunted and gasped before whispering, "I _am_ somewhat concerned it might _kill_ you."

Holy shit! 

Crowley came like a volcano erupting. What the flaming hell was his angel fantasizing about that might— WHY was that so incredibly— How could he just _say_ something like that?!

Aziraphale fucked him as he cried out garbled half sentences, literally ecstatic and simultaneously greatly offended. Aziraphale came with a rasping cry, eyes shut tight and trembling like he'd just been shattered. The sight of Aziraphale, _his own_ Aziraphale, so utterly undone almost had Crowley forgiving him.

Almost.

"You bloody criminal," Crowley muttered, letting his head fall back against the duvet.

"What?" Aziraphale asked, his voice a little dreamy. He rolled off to Crowley's side, dragging the demon into the circle of his arms. Crowley allowed it but only because he was exhausted and the angel was warm, soft, and comfortable. Aziraphale kissed the top of his head and stroked his back, earning a weak hiss.

"M'not snuggling, idiot," he grumbled. Mmm mad at you."

"Whatever for?" Aziraphale chuckled. "Because I wouldn't tell you my silly fantasy? Don't be childish."

" _Don't be childish_ ," Crowley mocked in a silly voice. 

"Go to sleep, dear," Aziraphale smiled into his hair. A thin blanket settled over them and Aziraphale tucked it in place.

"M'not gonna sleep..." Crowley mumbled but his lips were muffled. Apparently he had managed to not-snuggle deeper into Aziraphale's embrace and now his face was pressed up against a firm warm chest. And it was _very_ comfortable.

He'd do a better job of being annoyed after a short nap.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Octopus? Why not Octopus? 
> 
> My HC is that Aziraphale isn’t fond of eating octopus. They’re highly intelligent and misunderstood creatures and I think Aziraphale feels badly for them. (This magnanimous attitude does not extend to pigs.)


	15. I Might Die Of Dismay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale learns about a secret demonic language used mostly between jackasses to promote jackassery.  
> Things go somewhat sideways for Crowley after a bit of an overshare.  
> Zira and Anthony are just living their best life as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely nothing goes wrong in this chapter, and you absolutely will not be cross with me.

Crowley nuzzled deeper into the warm pillows, fighting consciousness, chasing the sweet cozy comfort of slumber. He was deeply comfortable, warm, and his dreams had been mild and boring. The sheets smelled faintly of lilies of the valley and strongly of Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale. That’s why the pillows felt so warm…

Completely awake now, but too afraid to open his eyes, Crowley tried to slowly  _ un _ -nuzzle himself from the comfy angel lest he embarrass himself further, but a soft kiss placed to the tip of his nose told him it was already too late. He cracked one eye. Two blue eyes smiled down at him.

“Hhhiiii angel,” Crowley grinned, trying for suave but only managing sleepy. He yawned wide enough to unhinge his jaw and had to work it up and down a couple times to get it to click back into place. That had been an amazing nap.

“How long did I sleep?” he wondered, aware of how his naps could get away from him.

“A day and a half,” Aziraphale smiled, kissing his brow. “You looked so comfortable it seemed like a shame to wake you.”

“You stayed?" Crowley felt himself blush, picturing Aziraphale wrapped around him while he slept for more than a day!

“Of course!” Aziraphale answered brightly. “My intention was to get some Crowley cuddles and I’m happy to say I achieved my goal and then some.”

Crowley would have been more offended if the angel didn’t look so comically pleased with himself. It was insufferably adorable. 

“All right, calm down. Doesn’t count when I’m unconscious, you git.” he snarked. Aziraphale smirked at him. The angel seemed to have recently taken up smirking. He’d dabbled in it from time to time in the past but since leaving Heaven’s employ, and especially since meeting his counterpart, Aziraphale had smirked much more often than ever before and Crowley wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. 

On the one hand it didn’t bode well for their arrangement where Crowley was the principal Smirker and as such did the smirking in this partnership thank you very much. He liked it that way and didn’t appreciate the angel horning in on his territory.

On the other hand a smirking Aziraphale  _ did things _ to Crowley. Flushing crimson again, the demon hurriedly cleared his throat and turned over to avoid pressing his hardening effort into his bedfellow. “Ahem. Anyway, if manhandling me into bed and fucking me senseless is your way of getting cuddles, Aziraphale, then let me just way, I whole-heartedly endorse this venture.”

“Oh, that was actually a bit of jealousy on my part, if I’m being honest,” Aziraphale admitted, and Crowley had to turn back to look at him again, confused. “Anthony was so close to Zira and you were being standoffish and I suppose I felt put out. I know we’re not yet where they are, but I had hoped you’d be more receptive.”

“Hennngh?” Crowley asked, wrinkling his nose. There were plenty of times he had zero understanding of what Aziraphale was prattling on about and this was definitely one of those times. His usual go-to response was to shrug noncommittally and hope the situation sorted itself out without any effort from him, but since he was apparently being  _ implicated _ in some way Crowley was now forced to break out the  _ Hennngh _ .

“Well, I was offering myself to you for comfort and telling you how proud I was of you, and all you wanted to do was stare at  _ them _ !” Aziraphale huffed, getting annoyed all over again for Crowley’s supposed passed sin.

“Wot? Hey now, I wasn’t staring at  _ them! _ ” Crowley argued. “I was watching Anthony, yeah, but only because he was threatening to bloody  _ stab me _ all right?”

Aziraphale did not look impressed. Crowley wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. Satan save him from oversensitive angels!

“Anthony didn’t say anything to you, Crowley,” Aziraphale deadpanned. “I was sitting right beside you.”

“He did,” Crowley assured the angel, unsure if it mattered. “Just that  _ you _ didn’t notice because you, being an angel, aren’t exactly proficient in Pit Cant”.

Pit Cant was a highly secret one handed sign language known to all the OG demons. The lexicon wasn’t overly extensive since the language was created shortly after the Fall for use in a war against the angels that never actually came to pass. As such it was mostly good for silently communicating orders and threats without mortals or enemy/spousal angels catching wise.

Even admitting to the existence of Pit Cant was a flayable offence, but since Crowley had already committed an uncountable number of those, he told Aziraphale all about it now.

“For example, let’s say there was a dark brunette demon who just lost a sex battle he was favoured to win but was prevented from acting out by the strong embrace of a Principality…” Crowley knew he was skating on thin ice with Aziraphale but if he was going to plummet into the icy depths, he was going to paint a bloody scene first. 

“That demon might use his free hand to sign a clear message to the red-headed underdog that he would ‘ **_stab me in the throat_ ** ,’” Crowley used figure quotes to illustrate Anthony’s actual threats. “And that I should ‘ **_Never be alone_ ** ’.”

Aziraphale looked a bit uncomfortable at that.

“Show me some of this Pit Cant,” he challenged stiffly. Crowley sighed, rolled his eyes and flashed a quick succession of signals with his left hand, translating to “this angel is highly stupid and if I don’t kill him I might die of dismay.” Aziraphale watched the signing and nodded, apparently satisfied that it was, in fact, a language and not just Crowley messing with him. Again, Crowley would be more offended if that weren’t exactly the sort of thing he would do, and had indeed likely done in the past.

“What did you just say?” Aziraphale asked, his temperament much demurred.

“This angel is the light of my life and I would die without him,” Crowley answered seamlessly.

“Oh, Darling!” Aziraphale gushed, pulling a startled Crowley back into his arms and kissing him deeply. Crowley froze for a moment, shocked by the sudden affection, but the way the angel’s mouth moved against his had him shuddering in boneless pleasure and returning the kiss within milliseconds. It still felt so new, this full sensual kissing. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to kiss that many people in the last century. It was always a surprise when it happened.

But this? This felt like something else entirely. Aziraphale moved against him, and also, somehow,  _ through _ him. There were long forgotten parts of Crowley lighting up like fireflies from the angel’s kiss. It felt transformative, he was shedding a worn skin and returning to a truer state of being.

Also he was hard enough to cut glass!

“Angel,” he groaned, kissing along Aziraphale’s throat to his shoulder before lightly biting down on the flawless skin there. “Can’t get enough of you, Aziraphale, please.”

“Yes, darling,” Aziraphale moaned, surprising Crowley by leaning into the bite. “I’m yours, Crowley.” 

And he’d be blessed if that wasn’t everything Crowley had ever wanted to hear! He fairly launched himself at the angel, twisting the blonde up in his unworthy, gangly limbs and kissing him madly. Air was now a luxury he had no time for as he dove into the kiss over and over, deeper and deeper. Aziraphale met him earnestly, an equal in his passion. Kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust. Crowley surrendered to it, pulled it over himself like a blanket until he was coming hard from it, drowning it in, laughing and sobbing and dying and being reborn.

They weren’t so much holding each other as clinging to one another, gasping as their lungs remembered how to suck air now instead of love. 

“Oooh… that was… that was splendid,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Was,” Crowley agreed, pulling himself back together in stages. This was perfect. He liked this. He liked this very much. They pressed their foreheads together and breathed each other’s air until the sweat on their skin cooled and their heartbeats were back to something closer to ‘normal’.

“You are amazing,” Crowley whispered. “I can’t believe you followed a weird sounding voice on a weird cellular telephone all the way to another world just to find me.”

“You’d have done the same,” Aziraphale smiled, kissing his fingers. Crowley shrugged but nodded. He would have, and more. “And he didn’t sound strange at all. He sounded just like me.”

“Well, I believe I  _ said… _ ” Crowley teased, and squealed in delight when Azirapale swatted his backside.

“You are a fiend,” Aziraphale growled playfully, nibbling Crowley’s ear. “You delightful, maddening creature.”

They lapsed into a more relaxed state, lightly holding each other and gently trading touches. It felt oddly experimental to Crowley, running his fingers over curves and muscle he had grabbed in his passion earlier without really appreciating their strength and beauty. 

The pale skin was no less gorgeous for being marred by crescents where he’d bit down, or tinier moons where he had dug his nails. Part of him still felt like he should have been consumed in holy fire or turned into salt for daring to touch Aziraphale like that and yet the angel seemed content, even proud of the little marks. Crowley felt oddly jealous that he wasn’t sporting marks of his own, something more tangible to remember the moment by. 

Then Aziraphale began lazily stroking the inside of his arm and Crowley shivered in a puddle of quivery goo.

“Pit Cant,” Aziraphale chuckled, “sneaky demon.”

“Me?” Crowley murmured, blissed out on touch. “Or Anthony?”

“Anthony, in this case,” Aziraphale laughed. “Threatening you under our noses like that. Cheek.”

“ _ Cheek _ ,” Crowley mimicked, dryly. “That’s one word for it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it though,” the angel smiled. “He was probably only teasing.”

“You don’t think he’d stab me in the throat?” Crowley turned slightly to give the angel his signature eyebrow. “You really don’t? Well. fortunately for both of us, he won’t get the chance.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warned.

“‘Cause I’m gonna stab ’im first!” Crowley summoned a switchblade with a flourish and made a couple practice jabs in the air. Aziraphale huffed and stole his knife leaving Crowley momentarily confused as to how he was so handedly disarmed.

“You are not stabbing your counterpart, Crowley,” Aziraphale scolded him. 

“Stab, poison, smother,” Crowley shrugged. “I’m not fussed on the particulars, Angel. So long as he’s snuffed.”

“Good Lord,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Stop it.”

“ _ You _ stop it,” Crowley teased, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s neck and making him giggle deliciously. “You’re going to have to be more supportive of my murder sprees if this marriage is gonna work, you know.”

“Marriage?” Aziraphale exclaimed in alarm. 

Crowley froze, eyes wide in terror at how badly this had just gone sideways. He reluctantly pulled away, thinking furiously for a way to laugh this off but a quick glance at the angel dimmed that hope. Aziraphale was staring at him in utter shock.

“I mean…” he gulped, looking away. “Jusssst that’s where this is going isss going someday, yeh?” he tried, gesturing to them in bed, and also the whole of the cottage and everything around them.  _ Please agree. Please agree. Please agree. _

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. “Let’s not rush ahead of ourselves here. Zira and Anthony only married after thousands of years of being together and we’ve no way of knowing exactly how things will go for  _ us. _ This is all still rather new.”

“Right! Yeh, totally,” Crowley quipped lightly, slowly bleeding out. “Totally different situation, us.”

“It’s not that I find the idea unappealing,” Aziraphale continued, and Crowley winced. 

“ _ Not unappealing _ ,” Crowley echoed vacantly. “Okay.” 

Finding it untenable to continue this conversation while naked, the demon slid himself out of the bed and snapped himself into some clothes. The glasses slid into place like the visor on a helm.

“That isn’t what I meant,” the angel sighed. “I’m not saying this right. Please come back to bed.”

“S’fine,” Crowley waved it away. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Forget I said anything.”

“Crowley, Come back to bed, please,” Aziraphale requested, but Crowley was positive he’d rather Anthony stab him in the throat.

“Thing is,” he growled, knowing he was being an idiot and unable to stop himself, “they didn’t wait thousands of years. They did it right after Armageddon.”

“But they loved each other for centuries before that,” Aziraphale reminded him. Crowley stared at him for a moment, utterly dumbstruck.

“And… that’s how we’re  _ different _ ? We…  _ haven’t _ ?” Crowley turned away, unable to continue this telescoping overshare. Every word dug him in deeper, revealed his weakness to a lethal degree.

He’d loved the angel for as long as he can remember, and he could remember far more than a few measly centuries. He knew they weren’t exactly where Zira and Anthony had been after getting sacked by the Authorities, but he had hoped they were at least on the same bloody page!

"Of course I love you, Crowley," Aziraphale insisted. 

“S’fine,” Crowley assured him again. “Really! Overstepped, is all. Happens all the time. Used to it. M’fine. Jusssst need some air. Why don’t I nip on downstairs and bring us up sssome coffee. Or  _ me  _ some coffee. Tea for you.”

“That… would be nice,” Aziraphale said, looking at him warily. “Thank you. Milk and a dash of honey for mine, please.”

“Yeah,” Crowley nodded, already out the door. “I know how you take your tea, Angel.”

He could hear Anthony and Zira talking in the kitchen and wrongly assumed it was safe to enter. At this point he really should have known better. 

Sure enough, the husbands were standing at the kitchen table, looking through the pages of notes littered across its surface and discussing them in depth. They paused when he entered, and it wasn’t until he was pouring himself some coffee that he noticed Anthony’s trousers were around his knees and Zira had been quietly fucking against said table while they planned. 

Crowley did a double take, rolled his eyes and finished pouring his coffee. “Don’t let me stop you,” he told them. “S’your house.”

“You heard the man,” Anthony quipped. “Keep moving, Angel.” Zira shrugged and obliged, easing back into his husband in slow even strokes while Anthony turned a page. Crowley shook his head and took his coffee to the sink to fill the kettle.

“See, I’m pretty sure it happened  _ during _ the ceremony,” Anthony was saying. “So I don’t think that’s gonna help at all, actually.”

“Did it?” Zira sighed. “I suppose you might be right. For some reason I thought it was a couple days later, when we were in France and snuck into Château de Combourg.”

“OOooh, yeh, that was— ngk! Right there, Angel— that was special, all right, but we were already merged then, I’m sure of it.”

“Wot are you two doing?” Crowley barked, hitting his limit.

“While you two have been sleeping the hours away, we’ve been working on how to get you gits home,” Anthony told him. Crowley suspected Anthony was trying to look cool and sureriour which must have been difficult to pull off while being slowly pounded against an oak table. He managed fairly well though, Crowley was impressed.

“Sounds good,” he nodded. “Wot’ve you got? Can I help?”

“Nothing—ing terribly useful so far,” Zira stammered, snapping himself against his husband. “Oh! It's difficult because we did so much  _ experimentation _ with our powers thirty years ago, so remembering when we learned this summoning circle, and— Ah! — and  _ how _ we learned it is troublesome.”

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed in a long groan. “Once we married our powers a lot of this stuff just sort of...Haah...hahh….shit… sorry… fuck there...right there.”

“Well, better to avoid anything to do with words like ‘married’ or ‘merged’, thanks,” Crowley growled bitterly. “That’s just not in the cards for us, so we’ll need to think up a different solution.”

“Haah,,, wot?” Anthony groaned? “I thought things were going www— well.”

Crowley laughed bitterly, wishing he could be just about anywhere else. “Is that offer to stab me in the throat still open?” he asked Anthony.

“Always!” Anthony answered brightly and flourished a freshly summoned blade which Zira managed to twist out of his grip a second later. Crowley still hadn’t seen how he did it. So much for that idea then.

“S’fine,” Crowley shrugged, turning away. “Everything’s fine. Just not… look, we don’t  _ have _ to get married. We don’t have to do what you did. It's the 21st century! Marriage is a dead institution anyway.”

“Wot did you do?” Anthony growled, glaring at him. Crowley growled and glared back before turning back to the tea. 

“I thought you liked the idea,” Zira grunted pleasantly. “And our ceremony really was very lovely.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Crowley, snapped. “Angel doesn’t want it. S’done. Find another bloody way!”

The husbands stilled and looked at him, then Anthony sent a questioning look over his shoulder at Zira who sighed forlornly. 

“Sorry, dear,” he blushed, pulling out. “I lost it.” Anthony groaned in defeat and the two of them pulled up their trousers, looking sullen. 

“I have an idea I can pursue,” Crowley told them, desperate for escape. It wasn’t  _ much _ of an idea, to be honest, but it would get him out of this damned cottage for a while. “Where exactly are we? How far is it to Eastbourne?”

“Eastbourne?” Zira repeated, surprised. “Not far, I suppose. We’re just outside Brede.”

Crowley entered it into his cellular. It wasn’t far at all. “Right. Be back in a bit,” he told them, and snapped himself away before they could argue.

**__________**

  
  


It eventually became apparent that Crowley wasn’t going to return with tea so Aziraphale got himself dressed and came downstairs in search of the sulking demon. Zira and Anthony were in the kitchen, but Crowley was nowhere to be seen.

“I believe Crowley had been making you tea,” Zira told him as he entered the kitchen. Aziraphale accepted the offered cup and sat at the table, curious about the notes strewn across its surface. Anthony sat down across from him and quickly gathered them up. They briefly made eye contact, but Aziraphale didn’t care for the dark look the demon gave him so he quickly looked away.

“Where is he? The garden again?” he asked lightly, not wanting to infringe upon their evening with his drama. 

“No. Eastbourne, we think,” Zira told him. “Although we’re not sure why.”

Aziraphale blinked, baffled as well. He wasn’t surprised that the demon had run off (that was rather in character for Crowley, really) but if he was going to leave the cottage, why not go back to London?

“What could he want in bloody Eastbourne?” Aziraphale snorted. “Is he wanting some time at the beach?”

“Oh!” Zira snapped his fingers. “The beach!” he looked over at his husband who was looking back at him now with grumpy incredulity. “Didn’t you know a selkie who haunted one of the beaches in Eastbourne?

“Rupert,” Anthony offered. “Yeh, he hangs around Holywell, but he’s a total tosser.”

“That may well be, but can’t selkies find portals?” Zira asked pointedly. Aziraphale was definitely very confused, but too intrigued to interrupt.

“They can…” Anthony drawled, looking a bit uncomfortable now. Zira was frowning and looking very troubled. It was probably time for Aziraphale to say something but Zira interrupted him.

“Isn’t Rupert somewhat…” he faltered, wringing his hands. “He’s quite a bit  _ evil  _ isn’t he?”

“Oh, he definitely is,” Anthony nodded emphatically.

“I don’t know this individual,” Aziraphale blurted in frustration. “Who is Rupert? Why would Crowley go see him and is he in danger for doing so?”

“Rupert is a selkie I’ve had dealings with from time to time over the years,” Anthony told him coolly. “He’s an absolute arsehole, but he’s got his uses. If Red’s looking for a way home for you two it’s possible he’d ask Rupert for information. And yeah, that’s not exactly  _ safe _ , especially not now that it's getting late. Sun might well be down by the time he finds him. Selkies are more dangerous at night.”

“Then can we please go get him?” Aziraphale snapped, beyond worried now and feeling quite irritated by Anthony’s tone. 

Anthony shrugged. “Serves him right if he gets eaten.”

“Crowley,” Zira warned at the same time Aziraphale bleated out a shrill “ _ eaten!? _ ”

“He took  _ the Bentley! _ ,” Anthony growled. 

It honestly took Aziraphale longer than it should have done to figure out why that was a problem.  _ Anthony’s  _ Bentley. Good Lord. No wonder the demon was in a bad mood.

“I’ll find him,” Zira stated firmly, unfurling his wings. Aziraphale stumbled back slightly in surprise at the size of them. They were easily one and half times the span of Aziraphale’s own, and where his feathers were a brilliant white, Zira’s shone with a faint iridescence. He shook himself out of his shock, keeping himself focused on what really mattered.

“Wouldn’t we cover more ground if we all went?” he argued, wanting Crowley back in his arms as soon as possible.  _ So he could strangle him. _

“He’s just gonna be a twat if he sees you, honestly,” Anthony told him, rolling his eyes. “Best if you stay here.” Then he turned to his husband with a dry look. “Thought we agreed no wings in the kitchen. Gonna be finding your damn fluffies for days.”

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale argued, detesting the shrillness of his own voice. “But I am  _ not _ staying behind if Crowley is in danger.”

“Pffft,” Anthony snorted. “Rupert’s an evil bloody sod, but he’s not gonna mess with us.”

“You’re staying behind as well,” Zira informed Anthony, earning a scowl from the demon. “We’ve tried it in other pairs. Let’s try  _ this _ now,” he added, obliquely. Anthony’s scowl melted slightly at that, and vanished completely when his husband leaned in to place a sweet kiss against his lips, and whisper something in his ear.

Zira was gone. Anthony was on the other side of the kitchen, and Aziraphale felt a familiar little flip in his stomach.

“What just happened?!” Aziraphale yelped, truly alarmed. “Did you stop time?!”

“Yeah, a bit,” the demon admitted. “Blame Zira. He wanted me to enchant something for him and give him a head start before you started squawking.”

“Squawking!” Aziraphale squawked. “How very dare you! If Crowley is in danger—”

“He’s not in any more danger than he normally is by being his damn idiot self,” Anthony hissed. “Rupert knows not to mess with a fucking Principality. He’ll go to ground as soon as he sees Zira circling.”

That did make Aziraphale feel a bit better. He knew his aura was enough to cause many evil beings to scamper off and hide, and Zira seemed to have greater power still. That didn’t erase the sting of being left behind though and he said so.

“I got skived too, remember,” Anthony sulked. “Not exactly thrilled about that myself. I think I may have mentioned that your sex-buddy  _ stole my bloody car! _

“ _ Sex-buddy _ !” Honestly, at this point Aziraphale felt very much in danger of experiencing a stroke.

“Point is,” Anthony raised his voice over Aziraphale’s exclamation. “Point is, Zira will snare him and bring him,  _ and my car, _ back here safe and sound. Then I will stab him in his bloody throat.”

“Not before I strangle him,” Aziraphale grumbled, dropping back into his seat with a satisfying harrumph before taking an angry sip of tea. Anthony quirked his brow at him, smirking.

“Wot’r you mad at him for?” he teased. “He’s just looking to get you both back home.”

“ _ Zira _ was looking for a way to get us home,” Aziraphale corrected him. “Crowley is just running away and being a prat.”

Anthony laughed at that, a warm rich sound that stole Aziraphale’s breath away and robbed him of more than a little of his ire as well. Goodness Anthony had a wonderful laugh.

“Oh hoo hooo,” Anthony chuckled, taking his glasses off to wipe away a tear. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “Wosn’t expecting you to  _ say it, _ but you’re not wrong.” He grinned at Aziraphale, his topaz eyes shining with mischievous glee and Aziraphale felt himself flush, feeling that odd rush of love and attraction all over again. Anthony’s gaze became more heated in response.

“Did Crowley tell you we were only… sex-buddies?” Aziraphale asked, clearing his throat and looking down into his tea. “We had a disagreement before he left and he decided to vanish before we could resolve things.”

“About you not wanting to marry a demon?” Anthony asked with mock brightness. Anthony obviously felt wounded by the perceived slight as well. “Might have mentioned something about it, but no, Red, didn’t say you were sex-buddies. I did.”

“Well  _ don’t _ ,” Aziraphale snapped. “I don’t care for that term at all. Just because I’m not ready to marry Crowley doesn’t mean I don’t love him very much. I’m amazed that you are being so terribly small minded about this.”

Anthony leaned against the worktop, adopting a more neutral expression, a gesture Aziraphale recognized from vast experience as Crowley conceding a point. The angel’s shoulders relaxed a bit as a result and he sipped his tea in silence.

“Might be a while,” Anthony said finally, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes and grinning again. “So whaddya think, Angel? Wanna make out?”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t stab the author in the throat. You know the idiocy is canon!
> 
> Oh! Here’s some news to distract you! *shiny shiny* I’m thinking this fic is going to be another five (ish) chapters before I start PART TWO (The Benefits of Being A Demon).


	16. A Safe Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is surprised by how much he has to learn from Anthony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an Az and Anthony chapter!
> 
> CW. There is another ill-advised slap in this chapter. The character thinks it's a good idea at the time and it doesn't cause any lasting drama but it is still a sudden slap.

Anthony sat across from him, watching him sip his tea. Aziraphale was used to being stared at by Crowley while he ate so it really shouldn’t be bothersome. Except that _this_ Crowley was being far more obvious about it, leaning forward and resting his chin in his palm. His stylish black glasses were less opaque than those of his counterpart’s, allowing Aziraphale to catch the odd glimpse of his slitted eyes, leaving even less doubt that he was, in deed, being stared at.

Aziraphale watched him right back, wondering how this demon before him could look so different and yet feel so similar to his own Crowley. He was still bewildered by all the “same but different” that surrounded the angel in this world. Crowley, but not _his_ Crowley. Someone Aziraphale found incredibly attractive and intriguing and felt an undeniable bond to, and yet, in many ways, a total stranger. _Same. Different. Same. Different._

"You're curious about something," Anthony drawled, his jaw bouncing on his palm as he spoke. 

"I'm curious about so very many things at the moment. I wouldn't know where to begin," Aziraphale sighed.

"Wherever you want," Anthony shrugged. "Open book, me."

Aziraphale scoffed because that could _not_ be true. Anthony seemed quite comfortable with himself but he was still _Crowley_. Still, he had a point that Aziraphale may as well ask his questions.

"I'm afraid I might put you off," Aziraphale admitted, hoping to negate the possibility by suggesting it.

"Pft," Anthony snorted. "S'fine. Been married to the more obnoxious version of you for decades. Doubt it's possible to be put off."

Oh. Aziraphale felt himself blush. Did Anthony really believe he was amiable than Zira?

"I'm sorry if this little misunderstanding between Crowley and I offended you two," Aziraphale mumbled. "I believe that is the top of my current concerns."

Anthony leaned back in his chair, stretching his long arms up over his head for a moment before settling back into an open sprawl that somehow had all four limbs draped out wide. The inability to properly use a chair transcended universes. _Same._

The movement was telling though. Aziraphale had seen it millions of times. The slow, ever so casual switch from leaning in to leaning away. He'd struck a nerve, and now Anthony was about to bring up his walls while pretending everything was fine.

"Don't know 'bout Zira, but you offended the shit outta _me,"_ the demon admitted, surprising Aziraphale. _Different._

"Well, not _you_ , really," he continued. "Jury's out on that, but what Red told us you said. That offended me. But Red's understanding of things isn't always…mmmngh... you know, _reliable_. So I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"That's sporting of you," Aziraphale told him, pleased. Anthony seemed to preen a bit. "What did Crowley tell you I said?"

"You don't want to get married," Anthony answered.

Blunt, overly simplistic, completely missing the point. That was Crowley, all right. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"Would I be forgiven for pointing out that it hasn't yet been a full week since our first kiss?"

Anthony laughed again, that warm, rich sound. "Nah," he chuckled. "Probably be best to keep reminding me. Red made it sound like you didn't want to even consider it in the future."

"I suppose a bit of his pessimism has rubbed off on me," Aziraphale admitted. "I'd rather not get ahead of myself."

Anthony snorted again but seemed to leave his commentary at that. Aziraphale found himself disinclined to continue the topic as well so they lapsed into silence. Aziraphale sipped his tea while Anthony began scrolling through his cellular. This was a familiar scene to the angel, but felt decidedly wrong at the moment. There was stress in Anthony's shoulders, suggesting he was uncomfortable as well.

"Are you worried about your angel?" Aziraphale asked him finally. Anthony snorted again without looking up from his screen.

"Hardly," he drawled. "Aziraphale's by far the scariest thing out there."

His words had the perplexing effect of making the angel feel simultaneously chuffed and jealous.

"Is it Crowley you're worried about then?" he prodded. Anthony's assertion of being an ‘open book’ really wasn't lasting long.

"Neh," he shrugged. "Expecting a text from Zira any minute to say he's got him. He'll be fine."

Aziraphale sighed and pushed his teacup aside in annoyance. It bothered him that Crowley had run off alone. It bothered him that the demon might be in danger and he was expected to sit and wait. It bothered him that Anthony was being aloof when previously he'd been so... attentive.

"Something seems to be bothering you," Aziraphale sniffed. "Just moments ago you were asking to kiss me and now you've curled up into your electronics."

'Pft," Anthony said again. "I offered a _snog session_ and you declined," Anthony corrected. "And I'm under strict orders not to spook you, so that's that."

"Orders from whom?" Aziraphale demanded. Anthony finally looked up from his phone to give him a withering stare. It _was_ rather obvious. Crowley had warned his counterpart away lest Aziraphale get too flustered.

"I am not some fragile bit of ancient pottery," he argued. "I do not need to be treated with kid gloves. You said Aziraphale was the most frightening thing out there? Well, _I_ _am_ _Aziraphale_!"

"Yeh, _clearly_ I meant _mine,_ " Anthony shrugged, going back to his telephone. "Don't know wot you're upset at me for. Just sitting here respecting your boundaries, me."

" _My_ boundaries!" It was Aziraphale's turn to snort. "Crowley doesn't get to determine _my_ boundaries."

"Not talking about Red, you plonker," Anthony rolled his eyes. "You said no to making out. _You_ set that boundary. I'm over here, respectfully _not snogging you._ If you changed your mind then just bloody say so."

"I suppose I changed my mind then," Aziraphale huffed. Anthony was on his lap in an instant. Aziraphale barely finished his complaint and the demon sprang up, tossing his cellular on the table. He pushed Aziraphale's chair out and straddled him, pressing his hot mouth against his as gasped in surprise. 

Anthony took advantage of the angel's parted lips to make a thorough exploration of his mouth and Aziraphale sighed, finally catching up to what was happening and letting himself enjoy it. It was certainly a better way to pass the time.

And Anthony's tongue was proving to be every bit as sinful as Crowley's. Helpless to do anything else, Aziraphale returned the kiss with as much gusto as he could manage (which was quite a lot of gusto, if he did say so himself. Anthony seemed to agree, groaning appreciatively.) The demon gave an exploratory roll of the hips that made them _both_ groan appreciatively. Aziraphale braced himself for another grind but Anthony seemed to think better of it, focusing on kissing the angel's breath away and keeping his glorious hips still.

Disappointed, Aziraphale wondered if he'd done something wrong. The kissing was wonderful, he wasn't complaining, but…

Maybe he had to initiate? He ought to, yes? What would do the trick for Anthony? He seemed to like rough stuff. Aziraphale tried nipping at him, taking the demon's bottom lip between his teeth. 

Anthony moaned and melted against him more firmly. The kiss became much more heated. Emboldened, Aziraphale trailed his hands down Anthony's back to slowly cup his backside. Anthony's groan was cut off by a gasp as the angel tugged the narrow hips closer at the same time he tilted his own hips up to meet them.

That did the trick! Anthony was now undulating his flexible spine while he moaned against Aziraphale's lips, rubbing himself hard against Aziraphale's growing arousal.

"Ah, getting a bit— mmf— hot in here," Anthony whispered to him.

"Best get out of the kitchen then?" Aziraphale suggested.

"Definitely." Anthony kissed him again, deep and wet and Aziraphale dug his fingers firmly into the meat of his backside feeling desperate for this tempting dark creature. Anthony gasped again, groaned, then left his lap with a reluctant hiss and led him upstairs by the hand.

Now Aziraphale began to worry once more about disappointing the demon with his mild manners. He needed to be firm, confident and commanding like Zira. Anthony led him into the main bedroom, and when he turned around to grin at him Aziraphale was ready. He slapped the demon hard across the face.

"There, vile fiend. You'll do as you're told or get another one!" he threatened. Anthony held his stinging cheek, staring at him with wide-eyed alarm. He didn't look the least bit aroused by that. Aziraphale felt himself wilt as Anthony's shock transitioned into anger.

"Wot the bleeding Heaven was that?" the demon demanded.

"Er…" Aziraphale replied, feeling completely poleaxed. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I thought I'd try...I thought that was the sort of thing…" he trailed off weakly. Perhaps he looked pathetic enough to be pitiable because Anthony gave another "pft", an eye-roll, and then offered Aziraphale a cheeky smile.

"Okay so… let's just pretend all of _that_ didn't happen," he suggested.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale groaned, embarrassed. He plopped down on the bed, feeling a bit ill from humiliation. "I was afraid of being boring and instead I went too far. I'm just never going to get a handle on this."

"On what?" Anthony flopped beside him, half draped over his arm. The closeness suggested Aziraphale was forgiven.

"The... disciplining," he admitted. "Your Aziraphale makes it seem rather a bit easier than it is."

"You thought _a slap_ was discipline?" Anthony snickered. Aziraphale's cheeks burned. "Hmm…" Anthony hummed looking at him for a bit. Then the demon stood up on the bed and tapped his knuckles against the ceiling. At once a bar manifested on the ceiling and a length of chain fell from it. Aziraphale eyed the contraption with wonder. The bar ran perpendicular to the bed and halfway across the bedroom. The chain hung from a heavy ring which could travel the length of the bar.

"This cute little number came about after a lot of failed experiments, in case you still think all this was _easy,"_ Anthony was saying, as if discussing the installation of cupboards. He took up the cuffs that were attached to the other end of the chain and (to Aziraphale's surprise) clicked them onto his wrists. 

"Long enough here to have me kneeling on the bed," he continued calmly while Aziraphale felt like he was about to burst with sudden arousal. "Or he could have me standing beside the bed, or lengthen the chain and have me kneeling on the floor…"

"Why are you showing me this?" Aziraphale gulped.

"Do you know how I feel when I'm locked up like this for him?"

"Excited?" Aziraphale suggested. Wasn't the point of it to be arousing?

"Safe," Anthony told him seriously. "I feel perfectly safe. I put all my faith in him. I know he's going to make me feel good. I'm safe with him."

Aziraphale felt his mouth go dry. Obviously a sudden slap across the face was _not_ going to instill feelings of calm and safety. He had sorely missed the mark.

"What about the spanking and struggling and domination?" Aziraphale argued. He hadn't imagined all of that, had he?

"Tools," Anthony shrugged. "Good tools. _Great_ tools really. But maybe you need to work your way up to some of that? Start with this."

"And what exactly is _this?"_ Aziraphale asked, crawling closer to Anthony on the bed.

"Do you want me to feel good?"

"I really do," Aziraphale whispered.

"Then _make me feel good."_

Aziraphale shivered with excitement. Such a simple command opened so many possibilities and it made his angelic heart sing. Make Anthony feel good. Make Crowley feel good. And he would _let him!_

"Oh, my dear _dear_ boy," he purred, nudging himself even closer to the bound demon who gave his own little shiver in response. "You've just made me ever so happy."

Anthony made a little sound in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Interesting…

"You truly are very beautiful," Aziraphale continued, giving himself permission to take his time and enjoy this view. The demon fairly preened under his admiring gaze. "I can't wait to taste every inch of this delicious caramel skin."

He reached out for the black silk tie, carefully undoing the knot and sliding it off with a slow whispering drag that almost seemed loud in the quiet room. Aziraphale stared into Anthony's eyes through those shaded glasses of his as he slowly unfastened one button after another down the vibrant red shirt. 

Anthony returned his gaze, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes calm and inviting, but by the third button the corners of those eyes tightened slightly and his breath came quicker through his nose. Aziraphale was on the right track here. As soon as the shirt was open, the angel loosened it around the demon's shoulders, baring his neck so he could suck a series of bruising kisses against it. Anthony responded immediately, his jaw falling open as he sighed pleasantly.

The spell they were weaving together was shattered when Anthony's trousers started ringing.

"Ah, that'll be Zira," Anthony panted. "Be a chap and grab my phone for me, will you?"

"Um…" Aziraphale reached his hand into Anthony's pocket to retrieve the telephone. 

"Great," Anthony grinned. "Now just press the green button and hold it to my ear, would you please?"

Aziraphale huffed in annoyance and turned the telephone to the speakerphone. He _had_ learned a thing or two since Zira summoned a damned cellular into his pocket.

"Did you find Crowley?" Aziraphale asked the rectangle at once.

"I…" Zira hesitated on the line. There was a muffled sound behind him. "Where is Crowley? _My_ Crowley, I mean."

"I'm here, Angel," Anthony replied, raising his voice slightly. "But tied up, is all."

"I see," Zira seemed unperturbed. "Yes, I found Red. He's perfectly safe, if somewhat unhappy with me at the moment."

Aziraphale now recognized the sound in the background as a muffled (possibly gagged?) Crowley swearing an absolute blue streak.

"Red can bloody hang!" Anthony spat angrily. "What about _my car!_ "

Zira laughed. "The Bentley is perfectly fine, dearest. I'd bring her right home to you, but I'm afraid this situation needs a bit of finesse and I'll be absconding with Red to the shop for a while."

"Excuse me?" Aziraphale gasped. "Why?!"

"Don't fret," Zira insisted. "Everything's under control. Just a bit of a tantrum."

"And it requires the shop?" Aziraphale grumbled, feeling quite suspicious now.

"It requires _finesse_ , as I said. And a bit of time. Not long, ” Zira answered him firmly, before apparently deciding that matter settled and talking to Anthony again. "Crowley darling, should I leave the Bentley here, bring her with us to Soho, or send her on alone?"

Anthony seemed to mull this over for a moment while Aziraphale glared at the rectangle. _Why was he bringing Crowley to London?!_

"Sod it," Anthony sighed. "Give her the word and send her on back. Might need her if something comes up and you want us to join you in London."

"Sound choice," Zira agreed. "I'll speak to you both soon. I love you, dearest."

"Love you more, Angel" Anthony replied happily. There was a worried muffled yelp from Crowley before the call ended. Aziraphale stared at the telephone a moment longer as if hoping that would somehow yield answers.

"The Bentley can drive herself home if given the proper command word," Anthony offered as if Aziraphale was sharing his concern over his _car_. 

"Why is he taking Crowley to London instead of bringing him back here?!" Aziraphale cried.

"Who knows," Anthony shrugged. "Zira said it's under control."

"And that's it?" Aziraphale growled. "You believe him?"

Anthony sighed and gave Aziraphale a stern look, quite the feat while suspended from the ceiling. "If it were Red saying it, then no," he continued. "But Zira wouldn't take any undo risk with Red's safety. If there was anything to worry about he'd have said."

That _c_ _ertainly_ rang true. Aziraphale had to admit that. He couldn't imagine any possible dimension where he could be cavalier about Crowley's life.

"You're right, of course," Aziraphale sighed. “It’s only… I feel…”

"It's hard to surrender control," Anthony offered, sounding almost sympathetic. Aziraphale nodded because that was definitely part of his issue. Then looked at the demon, shackled and shirt undone and had to laugh at his words. Anthony cottoned on immediately and grinned sheepishly, pantomiming a quick struggle against his bonds.

"Yeah, same for me though," he smiled. "Same for Red too. S'always been about survival for us though. Dangerous not to be in control. Has he told you much about Hell?"

"Only in the broadest terms," Aziraphale sighed. "And usually only to punch up his sarcasm. ' _my side doesn't send rude notes'_ sort of thing. Never anything detailed."

Anthony nodded quietly and for a moment he looked positively haunted and Aziraphale felt a deep dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, my dear," he whispered. He waved a hand at the cuffs and released the demon immediately, pulling Anthony across his lap and holding him tightly. "I cannot imagine what it was like for you, my darling. I can only tell you that you never deserved a moment of it and I will fight until my final moment to keep you from ever enduring it again."

Anthony stared up at him from the tucked up ball of limbs Aziraphale had folded him into. "Angel," he murmured. "S'all right now. For _me_ anyways. M'not in any danger from Hell. And the past is… it's the past."

Aziraphale lovingly stroked the demon's dark hair then removed his glasses so he could see the lovely light topaz shine to his wide beautiful eyes. 

"Why did you mention Hell?" Aziraphale asked him softly, remembering Anthony had likely been on his way to an important point before the angel interrupted him. "Were you going to tell me something about my Crowley?"

"About us both, I guess," Anthony gave another charmingly sheepish grin, still tucked up in Aziraphale's arms. The angel considered setting him back to rights, but reconsidered given the subject matter and placed a soft kiss against the demon's brow instead. "I'll hear whatever you're willing to tell me, dear."

Anthony seemed content to stay cuddled on his lap, and if anything, snuggled deeper in the angel's embrace. "Gotta be careful not to overshare, so bare with me if I pause a lot," he sighed. "Hard to know what Red doesn't want to share, you know?"

That was a worrisome but valid point and Aziraphale's heart broke to pieces inside him. He wanted to press Anthony for any detail he'd be willing to part with out of fear that Crowley might never tell him, that he might _never_ understand.

But what if doing so drove Crowley further from him? Wouldn't it be better to wait until it was _his own_ Crowley curled in his arms like this? 

"Perhaps he should be the one to tell me," Aziraphale whispered, feeling the threat of tears pricking at his eyes. He might not. He might never trust him to hear it.

"Maybe, yeah," Anthony agreed. He unfolded himself from his ball and settled back in place by the chain, batting the cuffs like a bored cat. "So, _in broad strokes_ , lemme say that surrendering anything in Hell is usually synonymous with being broken. He hasn't had to in a long time, but before that…" Anthony shrugged and carried on quickly. "Point is that surrendering is a big deal for any demon and we aren't wired to want to do it."

"Of course," Aziraphale nodded. "You shouldn't be expected to."

"You gotta listen here, Angel," Anthony said seriously. "You gotta really hear me okay?"

Aziraphale nibbled his lip and turned slightly on the bed so he was facing Anthony, giving his full attention.

"I'm not wired to give up control. I look for danger in every shadow. I try to stay three steps ahead of thirty different hypothetical situations at any given time. I'm constantly on alert. I'm always planning, scheming, trying to build a future where Aziraphale and I are safe and if I am ever still for too long the memories come and I'm running away from _that_ just as much as anything! 

"Angel. _Holy Choir_ , it's bloody exhausting to be me," Anthony whined. Aziraphale fought the impulse to grab the demon back into his arms, having agreed to listen and hear him, but oh how he wanted to sooth away his hurts. He let his own tears run free and held perfectly still.

"When Zira ties me up, when I can even just _pretend_ to be helpless, it's like a switch goes off in my mind," Anthony closed his eyes, his features relaxing as he continued. "I can tell myself Zira has all the control and just… be _passive_ for a while. It's so bloody restful, I can't begin to tell you. To not have to direct, plan, execute, guard, or escape anything for a while. To just have to _take it. Feel it. Be in my own bones_ instead of my anxiety ridden brain. Shit, Angel. Can you understand how badly I need that break sometimes?"

Aziraphale nodded silently, wide-eyed. He did. He understood now. The restraints weren't a cage. They were a refuge.

_"'Hell doesn't send rude notes'_ . Funny, because they sent Red a _very_ rude note," Anthony chuckled. Aziraphale's tears stopped and he held his breath. This was news to him, and something he would like a _lot_ more detail on in good time. "But in general, we don’t get warnings. Kindness? Gentleness? Demons are pretty good at faking these things to get close to an enemy, you know? So we don't tend to trust it in others, even angels. Bless it, the notion that an angel would be kind and gentle to a demon was always laughable, right?"

Aziraphale wasn't finding anything laughable about this and was still inwardly grumbling about this mysterious 'rude note', but he nodded for Anthony to continue.

"So maybe it's easier to role play the trapped demon at an angel's mercy and get gloriously fucked for a while. That was easier to accept at first. The 'I love yous' were easier to hear when I was ruined," he shrugged and smiled. "S'also just bloody fun. A bit of chase, a bit of thwarting. I get to be a brat and Zira puts me in my place so well my toes curl." Anthony seemed to be getting distracted now, his cheeks flushing and his breath shallow. Aziraphale politely cleared his throat.

"I'm very sorry I slapped you," Aziraphale told him, taking his hand. "I think I understand now why that was so off the mark. Thank you for telling me this."

"'Course," Anthony drawled, shrugging like it was nothing. 

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him again, soft and sweet and with all the kindness the demon well deserved. With slow, deliberately gentle strokes, Aziraphale pulled the shirt over the demon's long arms. The kiss deepened, Aziraphale allowing Anthony to take the lead, a hands in his curls as he pressed himself closer. Aziraphale ran his fingers along the hem of Anthony's black vest, humming a question against his busy lips. Anthony released him, looking a bit muzzy, and raised his arms again so Aziraphale could pull the vest off over his head.

"So beautiful," Aziraphale cooed, stroking his hand over Anthony’s shoulder and down his bare arm. 

Then he roughly yanked the demon's wrist back up to the cuff and snapped in place.

"Other wrist" Aziraphale ordered quietly. Anthony immediately obeyed, placing his wrists together so the angel could secure them both. “Excellent. Well done,” he praised before kissing the demon’s jaw. A snap of his fingers shortened the chain, drawing Anthony up straighter so the angel could continue to suck bruises down his throat. “Do you have a safeword you like to use, dear?” he asked. 

“Uh… Spatula would work for today,” Anthony offered before moaning as Aziraphale lightly bit his collarbone.

“Interesting choice,” Aziraphale murmured conversationally as he drew his fingernails lightly up either side of Anthony’s spine, admiring the way the demon arched back so beautifully.

“Mmm… Zira was using one on me like a paddle this morning,” Anthony moaned. “Guess it's fresh in my mind.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale noticed that Anthony had reacted quite well when he’d gripped his backside earlier. Perhaps it was still a bit sensitive. “Are you still a bit pink, I wonder?”

“Probably not,” Anthony chuckled. “But you’re welcome to fetch the spatula if you’d like to remedy that.”

“Hmmm… another time, perhaps,” Aziraphale mused, gently flicking his tongue against a delectable nipple. “My current mission is to make you feel good, remember?”

“Spatula felt good, in its way,” Anthony argued but his voice faltered as Aziraphale sucked his nipple between his lips. He positively ravaged the little nub of flesh, delighting in the way Anthony groaned and twisted for him. “Haah… that’s good too… Very good...yeh…”

“Mmhmm,” Aziraphale hummed. It _was_ good, and Anthony’s second hand pleasure was making Aziraphale dizzy with lust, but he held his mission firmly in his mind. He released his hold on the demon’s bruised nipple and unhooked the cuffs from their chain so he could lay the demon out along the bed. He stretched Anthony’s arms up over head until his knuckles brushed one of the iron spindles on their intricate headboard. Anthony grasped it in both hands immediately, but Aziraphale pressed his bound wrists lightly against the pillows anyway and firmly ordered him to “stay”.

Anthony nodded, his breath coming shallow and quick as Aziraphale continued a slow, predictable trail of kisses down the center of Anthony’s chest, over the flat belly and around the hollow navel. He remembered what Crowley had done to his own soft belly and copied the move, thrusting his tongue into the sensitive button several times as Anthony moaned and hissed and twisted his hips. Those hips moved far too well and threatened Aziraphale’s already tenuous self control, so the angel quickly grabbed them and pressed them down to the mattress while he continued to tongue-fuck the demon’s belly. 

“Oh! Come on! That’s… _Hrk!_ — _Ah! —fff,”_

Aziraphale figured it was finally time to free this demon from the confines of his trousers. He made quick work of the belt and flies, and slipped the black fabric down over long muscular legs. He peeled off the socks as well and pressed a kiss to each instep. When the demon moaned plaintively at that, Aziraphale decided to spend a bit more time exploring these sensitive feet. He gently massaged the tendons around the ankle, running a finger over the heel and along the arch. Anthony gritted his teeth and bowed his back off the bed.

“Are you ticklish? Should I stop?” Aziraphale asked him.

“Green,” Anthony responded breathlessly, shaking his head. 

“Green?” Aziraphale asked him, stroking along the top of the foot now. The safeword was spatula, wasn’t it?

“Haah… Green means ‘good’, Angel,” Anthony gasped. “Amber means to slow down, or pause for a moment. Just ways to check in, you know, without actually— Ah! Haaah nmf!— without stopping.”  
  


“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale smiled. “Very good. Thank you.”

“Please… my pants...please?” Anthony tilted his clothed hips desperately, and Aziraphale’s mouth watered at the prominent bulge there. He gently peeled the boxer briefs down to free the glorious cock and couldn’t resist pressing an open mouthed kiss to the tip of it before rolling the pants the rest of the way off. 

“Pass me a pillow, would you, dear?” he asked sweetly. Anthony moaned and released his grip on the iron bar long enough to toss a pillow to the angel before grasping it again. Aziraphale felt his own arousal pulse at the demon’s desire to obey, to please. Oh yes, he definitely saw the appeal in this. “Thank you darling. You’re doing so well. I’m so pleased with you.”

Anthony whined and flexed his hips again. Aziaphale took advantage of the movement and thrust the pillow under the demon, drawing another moan of anticipation. 

“Do you trust me, my dear?” he asked, pressing a kiss against a warm thigh.

“Angel, I’m naked, tied up and spread out for you,” Anthony hissed. “If I didn’t bloody trust you none of this would be happening.”

“Fair enough,” Aziraphale smirked. He didn’t appreciate the tone, deserved though it may be, so he dropped his mouth over the demon’s stiff effort and pulled back with a punishingly hard suction. Anthony wailed for him so prettily he was inspired to do it again. 

“Not gonna last,” Anthony warned him, so Aziraphale released him once more. He wanted this to last. He wanted them both to enjoy it. 

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. Anthony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Aziraphale felt in awe at the compliance. How long had it taken to get Anthony to this point? How long would it take for Crowley to submit to him so willingly? The thought made his heart clench, so he chased it away. Anthony deserved his full attention. Crowley would get his turn (and then some) in due time.

Once Anthony seemed in better control Azirphale settled back down between the demon’s bent knees, kissing down the shaft before lifting the side of the soft bollocks with his tongue and taking it into his mouth. He kept his suction gentle and moved his head as Anthony rolled his hips and moaned, open mouthed and helpless. He massaged the lightly furred skin with his tongue and slowly sucked the sack deeper into his mouth as his fingers began questing around Anthony’s entrance. 

He hummed in surprise to find the rim already relaxed, then remembered Anthony had suggested he and Zira had been up to some hanky panky earlier. Still, that was hours ago so Aziraphale took his time. He entered the demon with a slick finger, sliding in easily, and rewarded with another boneless moan. He drew the soft bollocks out of his mouth so he could add his tongue to the stretching campaign, thrusting it deep beside his finger as Anthony swore and his feet lost purchase on either side of the angel’s shoulders. 

As Anthony tried to stay in position, Aziraphale reached between his own legs to squeeze his aching erection. He was painfully hard and no doubt leaking. He snapped his kit off and sent it in a neatly folded pile in the corner in hopes he hadn’t yet fully stained his pants. His overcoat he kept beside him though. There was something he needed hidden in the deep pockets.

He continued to open the demon up slowly as Anthony sighed and whined and begged. There was a steady stream of precome dribbling onto the demon’s stomach and another steady stream of “green green green green green” coming from Anthony’s mouth. 

“I’m ready!” he insisted again. “I’m _past_ ready! Really Angel, please!”

Aziraphale looked down at the obscene stretch around his three fingers and decided he’d wait until the demon could take a fourth, just to be safe. Over the next five minutes the demon’s begging turned into threats.

“If you don’t fuck me this bloody instant I will follow you back your own world and draw dicks all over your first editions!” the demon growled. Aziraphale clucked his tongue at that. 

“Naughty,” he warned, thrusting his fingers in sharply. The demon howled, but there was no pain in his expression and the slick movement felt smooth enough to continue. He withdrew his fingers slowly, miracling them clean before he moved himself up again to kiss Anthony’s mouth.

“Mmm… finally,” Anthony grinned weakly. “Hurry, please.”

“Shhh…” Aziraphale whispered. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take you in my mouth and love you until you spill down my throat.”

“Ffff…” Anthony whined. “No, Angel, bless it! Fuck me!” He rolled his hips desperately. “You’ve just spent three bloody years opening me up for Satan’s sake!”

“Three years,” Aziraphale snorted. Hardly that, although a glance at the clock did show that it had been a couple hours. Perhaps he’d been a touch excessive. “I have good plans for you,” he vowed, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the huge purple dildo Crowley had used to thwart Anthony earlier. 

He held it up so Anthony could see it, and made a show of stroking lube all over it’s girth with full suggestive strokes. Anthony’s eyes went wide and his cock jumped when it was pressed against his belly. “I believe Crowley’s friend here owes you an apology, after all,” Aziraphale grinned. 

“Too right it does,” Anthony groaned. 

“Still green then?” Aziraphale asked, bringing the toy down to gently rub against Anthony’s prepared rim. The demon rolled his hips again in a movement that seemed to ripple all the way up his spine and into his shoulders. He groaned loudly and nodded.

Unable to wait any longer, Aziraphale scooted back into place and hungrily licked up Anthony’s twitching cock, taking it into his mouth with a moan. He slowly slid the tip of the toy past the relaxed ring of muscle, pausing once inside, before slowly working it in further in tiny thrusts. Anthony cried out a string of garbled nonsense until finally the toy was fully seated inside the demon, and Anthony was fully seated inside Azraphale’s throat. 

“HNNG!” Anthony grunted, “Oh Holy Hell!”

Aziraphale slid his mouth up the shaft again, lightly suckling the tip of Anthony’s straining arousal. He took the rest of the shaft in his free hand and grasped it tightly as he began to fuck Anthony with slow, gentle strokes with the toy. Each forward thrust pulled another delicious moan from the demon who was now so slick with sweat he shone in the lamp light. 

Aziraphale stroked his free hand up and down the demon’s prick, sucking harder on his cock head as he increased the pace of thrusts with the toy. Anthony arched his back dramatically, his moans coming in a continuous cycle of moan, gasp, moan, gasp, moan. 

When the demon’s voice started to break into a whimper, Aziraphale decided it was time to finish up. He left off Anthony’s cock with a faint pop, and withdrew the toy, tossing it to the side of the bed. Anthony cried out in denial at the loss of stimulation until Aziraphale pulled his knees up and further apart so he could bury himself in the demon in one smooth thrust.

He locked his hands over Anthony’s where they gripped the headboard, using it for leverage as he plowed back in, deep and hard. They both cried out in pleasure as Azirphale set a punishing pace, pounding in sharp and quick. He sank his teeth into the demon’s shoulder and was rewarded by the most beautiful cry as Anthony came, convulsing under him from the intensity of it. It was so powerfully breathtaking that Aziraphale was helpless not to follow suit, groaning brokenly as he spilled inside the demon.

He half collapsed over Anthony as he gasped in heavy breaths against a sweat-slick throat.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing the sweet skin before him as Anthony shivered through the aftershocks. “Lovely.”

“Mmmf—” Anthony agreed.

“Feeling good?” Aziraphale asked, nuzzling Anthony’s ear. The demon laughed weakly and nodded. “Good. good. I’m glad.” Aziraphale told him, gently stroking his fingers through the mess on Anthony’s chest before miracling it away. Anthony took that as a sign to curl up against the angel and hummed in delight as he snuggled in. Aziraphale let him wrap him around him, lightly stroking his hair and back as they both came down from the high.

He watched the demon as he smiled restfully, a delightful burbling sound coming from his throat. 

“I was wondering if you might do me a favour,” he asked quietly, setting a sweet little kiss against the demon’s brow.

“Mmmm...anything…” Anthony sighed dreamily. He looked so utterly content.

“So sweet,” Aziraphale crooned affectionately. “Thank you dear. Now if you would be so kind as to tell me all about this letter Hell sent Crowley, I’d be ever so grateful.”

Anthony’s eyes snapped open. “What letter?” he stalled.

“The letter you told me about earlier,” Aziraphale replied patiently. “The letter you’re about to tell me _more_ about now.”

Anthony tried to look mystified, but it was obvious that his post-orgasm brain wasn’t programmed for deception and it took too much effort. The demon sulked instead. 

“Wosn’t supposed to say anything ‘bout it,” he grumbled.

“That seems rather obvious,” Aziraphale stroked his hair. “But seeing as that’s all moot now…”

“I wos really enjoying having the moral high ground though,” Anthony pleaded, eyes wide with dramatic sorrow as if this was reason enough to drop the whole conversation. 

“Crowley received a letter from Hell after our trial. After, I believed, we were to be left alone. Yes, or no?” Aziraphale demanded.

“Yes,” Anthony grumbled.

“And, I assume, they threatened him?”

“Yes,” Anthony sulked.

“Well, then you might as well tell me everything you know about it now,” Aziraphale suggested as kindly as he could manage. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what an _Aziraphale_ is like when their _Crowley_ has been threatened.”

Anthony swallowed thickly and told the angel everything.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	17. Fuckin' Ow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a dangerous run in with a Selkie that leads and that's just the start of his poor choices that evening.  
> Zira manages the tantrum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chonky chapter. I've rewritten it a few times because it kept getting angsty in a way that wasn't in keeping with the tone of this story. This chapter has some legitimate dramatic moments because this is where the fic starts to turn towards some kind of conclusion. I'm writing two other darker fics atm and that kept bleeding through >_<.
> 
> So! Have some Content Warnings! This chapter has some violence and there is some mild blood/injury, but nothing that I would call graphic. There is also paddling, and orgasm delay/denial, and a demon getting overwhelmed with some unexpected (to him) FEELINGS.

The fae were a largely neutral faction in the war between Heaven and Hell. They minded their own business and kept out of the way, and in return neither demon nor angel stuck their fingers in faerie plans. If the two courts had anything at all to say about Above and Below’s plan to destroy the Earth in a massive celestial war, they seemed to keep it to themselves. One would have thought it might matter to them, but that was faeries for you. Weird little buggers.

Unlike angels or demons, the fae didn’t uniformly fall into a neat column of Good or Evil. They seemed to drift back and forth, some leaning heavily to one side or the other, much like the humans did. 

Rupert the selkie tended to lean pretty heavily towards the evil side of things. So much so that he’d ended up getting tossed out of his own court. He’d been trying to get into Beelzebub’s bad graces ever since, hoping to find a new home among demons. That was over three hundred years ago, and Beez still wasn’t taking the chap’s calls.

Dealing with the fae wasn’t generally advised, even for demons. They were shifty, illogical, and some of them were wickedly powerful in their way. But Crowley had always been the curious sort, as well as fantastically lazy, so when he’d heard about this rogue selkie having portals, he’d approached the creature hoping to get a faster way to travel between England and Constantinople. He loved Constantinople.

He knew it was highly unlikely Rupert would have a portal to his dimension, but in lieu of literally _any_ better alternative, he figured he might as well try.

He found the selkie in the same spot he had in 1840, in a glamour-hidden cave at the edge of the beach. He was a short, greasy looking man with long grey hair that hung from his round head like ropes of seaweed. He sniffed and coughed, constantly, his fingers were always hovering, twitching, reaching for something, seemingly of their own will. And absolutely every single article of his clothing was from The Gap.

“Cr...owley?” he sniffed, turning towards the demon hesitantly. “Zat you?”

“Heigh ho, sekie,” Crowley drawled, sauntering into the cave as though he owned it. “Gotta question to run by you. Got a minute for an old client?”

“You’ve got a new body,” the selkie muttered. “That’s interesting. Did that angel of yours finally discorporate you?”

“Yeah,” Crowley shrugged. It seemed astute to keep as much of his situation as close to the vest as possible when speaking to evil entities. He was well aware of the fact that this whole meeting was borderline idiocy. Better to let the creature believe he was Anthony. And there was no reason not to enjoy that either. “It was during a super gross sex thing too. Real humiliating. Big mess.” 

Rupert snorted and coughed. “Whaddya want, Crowely?”

“Information mostly. Thinking about stretching my wings in a new dimension. Wot have you got for me?”

“Dimension?” Rupert screwed his flat little nose up and ran his disgusting fingers up and down his hoodie. “Another reality you mean?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Crowley snapped his fingers in a keep up gesture. “Need a good escape plan in case things get too hot here. You know how it is.”

“You want to go to another reality…” Rupert said again, and gave another couple sniffs. Crowley could almost see the gears turning in his little seal brain, and he didn’t like it. 

“You know anything about it? I’ll trade you Beelzebub’s new number for some solid information.”

That got Rupert’s interest. He almost squealed in delight, slapping his hands together before turning to the massive row of bookcases in the back of the cave. “Maybe! Maybe I do!”

Crowley’s heart started beating a bit faster and he warily followed the selkie’s voice when the little creature turned a dark corner, still chattering excitedly. 

“You’ve heard of the faerie mounds, yes? Lots of them throughout the Isles. Some of them are said to bridge worlds. Closest one to here is in Wales, though that might not be the one you need. I have a map, I think. Somewhere back here… Where did I put that bloody chest?”

A map of faerie portals between worlds sounded _exactly_ like the sort of thing he could bring back to the Aziraphales. There was no telling how useful that information would turn out to be (might end up being a dead end, might end up being helpful in unexpected ways.) Either way, it was something he was pretty damn sure Aziraphale didn’t currently own but would enjoy, and that was valuable in and of itself. He leaned against the book shelf as Rupert dug around in the corner. 

The sun was setting outside the cave and darkness was settling in around them, but neither the demon, nor the selkie seemed to mind the dark. As the fae continued to grumble, hunting through various chests, Crowley thought he caught sight of a small flicker of light out of the corner of his eye. He looked over his shoulder at the mouth of the cave and frowned. He couldn’t see anything, but could feel Aziraphale’s presence now. He was somewhere nearby, likely circling in the sky above them.

“Might want to hurry up,” Crowley warned the selkie. “I've a suspicion that the angel is on to me. Doesn’t want me doing this and he’ll be in a right snit if he catches me with you.”

“Not a problem,” Rupert hissed a second before something heavy collided painfully with the back of Crowley’s skull. Crowley swore, barely having a chance to register the blow before a second one connected even harder, sending the demon crashing onto the pebbly ground. He barely managed to avoid the following kick to the ribs by rolling over the cobbles. Crowley scrambled up, summoning a ball of hellfire when Rupert swung the heavy ore he was holding once more and cracked the demon across the side of the head. His glasses went flying off to the side and the hellfire died on his palm as he slid back down to the rocks, stunned.

“Another dimension,” Rupert sneered down at him. “Crowley but _not Crowley._ Another dimension indeed.”

“Ffff—” Crowley hissed, tasting blood in his mouth. His vision was starting to spot over. “Fffucking fae…”

“You’re going to get me an audience with Beelzebub, all right,” Rupert barked in seal-like glee. “I’ve heard all about how much Hell hates you. Not allowed to _kill_ you though. But you’re not from _this_ world. They can torture _you_ all they want without breaking Lucifer’s rules."

So. It was _possible_ that coming to this cave all alone _might_ have been poor judgement on Crowley’s part. Rupert _might_ have been smarter than he thought. He saw that now. 

Still, there was no way he was going to let some slimy circus act reject discorporate him. He was the bloody Serpent of Eden! He reached a shaking hand across the stones and grabbed his sunglasses. They were badly cracked.

“S'Not gonna go like you think,” he snarled, unfurling his wings. His head was pounding and it felt like the floor and the walls kept switching, but Crowley managed to flap himself mostly upright. When the oar came down again, the demon caught it and wrenched it out of the selkie’s grubby hands. 

Rupert scampered to the back of the cave, desperately clawing through another chest as Crowley’s rage reignited the Hellfire now dancing up his outstretched arms. The selkie spun, uncorking a large flask of something dark red and extremely sparkly. Crowley didn’t have to be an expert on the fae to know _that_ was bound to be some magic faerie shit.

“Put it down and _maybe_ I won’t turn you into seal jerky,” he growled, raising a flaming hand in threat. Blood trickled down the side of his face. He decided there was a good chance he’d kill arsehole anyway.

“You don’t make jerky with fire, you idiot,” Rupert spat. “It's _dried_ meat!”

“I think you’ll find fire to be _very_ drying,” Crowley growled, feeling Rupert was definitely missing the point here.

"I believe we can end this peaceably without faerie curses or Hellfire" Aziraphale's plummy voice sounded bright and warm in the dank darkness but Crowley's stomach dropped anyway. 

Great. Now he could add a heaping dose of humiliation to this already crap night. Rupert froze at the sight of Aziraphale, reassessing his chances. Crowley growled at him, furious. 

"Don't get all weak in the knees because of the angel," he snarled at the Selkie. "You were fucked from the second you turned on me you little shit! _I'm_ the bloody threat here!"

"Nah, S'definitely the Principality," Rupert whispered, gesturing behind Crowley. 

"No no, don't listen to that, Red," the angel supplied, encouragingly. He stepped up beside him and Crowley saw it was Zira, not Aziraphale. "You're very terrifying, dear."

Crowley scowled at the angel's unhelpful helpfulness and Zira's eyes widened in alarm as he took in the demon's injuries. "Oh! You poor sweet thing! You're hurt!"

"Terrifying," Rupert snorted.

"I'm the bloody Serpent of Eden!" Crowley snapped.

"You certainly are bloody…" Zira fretted.

"Snakes aren't scary," Rupert snorted. "How could anyone be afraid of something that can be eaten by a _hedgehog_?"

Crowley was rapidly barreling towards apoplexy. "The _fuck_ you say! They bloody fucking _don_ 't! They eat mushrooms!"

Crowley honestly didn't know a thing about the dietary habits of hedgehogs but fungi seemed more likely than snakes, and he'd long since learned that as long as you say something confidently enough that was often as good as being right.

So long as some pedantic arsehole doesn't open his big— 

"Actually, I'm afraid that snakes _do_ make up part of a wild hedgehog's—"

"Oh would you please fuck off!" Crowley snapped before turning back to the selkie. "I'm going to turn you into boots!"

"No, you're going to calm down and let me see to these wounds," Zira growled back at him. Sure enough the world began to spin around Crowley and he fell back to his knees, clutching his aching skull. When he opened his eyes again he and Aziraphale were back at the beach entrance, beside the Bentley.

"I was about to get a hold of an important map, you meddlesome prat!" Crowley hissed at him.

“Red, stop. you’re bleeding,” Aziraphale responded firmly. “Stop fussing about and let me heal you.”

Fussing about! Crowley had everything in hand and would have gotten that map if Zira hadn't interfered! Bloody stubborn angel never took Crowley seriously. Always thought he knew what was best. "Always so bloody clever, eh? So fucking ssssmart!" He snarled at him before stomping away toward the beach. 

He had no idea where he was going, and it hurt too much to think about that too hard but he knew he had to go _somewhere_ else right bloody now before he started throwing hands. (As furious as he was at Zira, he was self-aware enough to know that would end very quickly and not in Crowley's favour.)

The next thing the demon knew he was wrapped up in rope from his biceps to his ankles and falling face-first onto the hard beach stones.

“Fuckin’ ow!” he growled, struggling futily against the red rope. He didn’t know the release word for the red one (Seriously! How many enchanted ropes did they have!) so he tried to slide into his snake form to escape. Nothing happened. Crowley froze for a moment, confused. His head was screaming at him, but reverting to his snake form should have been second nature. He tried again. Nothing happened. In fact, _none_ of his demon powers seemed to be working.

“No,” Crowley spat, rolling over so he could glare up at the angel. “No way. I wouldn’t make a trap I can’t get out of! No Crowley would!”

“I’m afraid that just isn’t true,” Zira told him gently. He was smiling sadly at him. Pitying him! Crowley wanted to bite him. He hissed, then pulled himself back, shaking his head. 

Zira reached for him, healing energy glowing at his fingertips, golden and beautiful. Crowley shrank away from the angel, not in the mood for pretty golden things. He hurt. His head throbbed and his thoughts came to him fuzzy and malformed, but part of him always enjoyed this part of injury. It was like his self-loathing was made manifest. It was good to feel it on the outside of his skin for a change.

It also helped fuel his anger. It sharpened his tongue, gave him permission to say the things he wanted to say. He bought the insults on credit. He'd pay for them later but that was future Crowley's problem. Present Crowley was hurting and had shit to unload.

  
  


"Don’t touch me,” he hissed. He knew he was still bleeding, but the thought of being healed by this sanctimonious arsehole was too much. “Just go the hell back to your perfect little cottage with your pet demon. Oh you’ve got him so well trained don’t you. Must be so proud of yourself, aren’t you, Angel. Defanged one of the Fallen. Real feather in your cap.”

Zira frowned as he sat down beside Crowley, his light eyes slowly tracing over every inch of the demon’s bound body. The demon's libido reacted to the slow dragging gaze, despite the pain and fury (or maybe that was a turn on too? Who knew the depth of his kinks anymore. At this point he wouldn't be surprised to find out he was uncontrollably attracted to kumquats.) 

Finally Zira seemed content that Crowley's injuries were localized to his head. Kind blue eyes took in the gash on his forehead and Zira winced in sympathy. Crowley hissed at him again, drawing his attention back to him, rather than his wounds.

“S’not gonna happen to _me_ ,” Crowley promised him. “M’not a bloody lapdog, begging for obedience training.”

“Do dog’s beg to be trained?” Zira asked. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Why is everyone constantly missing the bloody point today!? Crowley shouted. The angel could be obtuse all he wanted, but Crowley knew Aziraphale. He knew how to hurt him.

“Fuck you and your insufferable holier-than-thou attitude," He growled. "You’re bloody not any better’n me. You _should have Fallen!_ ”

Zira arched a brow, unimpressed, which was a little surprising because Crowley was pretty sure that comment would have gutted his angel.

“Fallen,” he said again. “You doubted. You questioned God. You went against Heaven’s orders. That’s all I bloody did and look what it got _me_?”

“Your head looks very sore,” Zira murmured, ignoring Crowley’s very acute observation. “Let me take care of that first.” The angel dragged Crowley forward so his head rested on his lap, and gently ran his fingers through his hair, sealing the cuts and healing the deep bruising. As Crowley’s pain receded, the anger flared brighter.

"Your scones are utter shite!" Crowley snarled. "You always overwork the dough!"

"How very _dare you!_ " Zira gasped in outrage. Finally having landed a hit, Crowley snickered at the angel cruelly. 

"Need gobs of clotted cream to choke it down, and that's saying something for a snake!"

"You have one chance to take that back," Zira warned. Crowley smelled a bluff. What was the angel going to do? Pout at him?

"S'truth. Your lapdog's not gonna tell you but I'll do you that service."

"Very well, Red," Zira murmured, his voice colder than Crowley had ever heard it. "I accept your challenge."

Crowley raised an insolent eyebrow in confusion, but inside his mind was scrambling in panic trying to remember what _challenge_ he'd proposed. He was drawing a blank. Maybe he _had_ been concussed?

"The challenge to not overwork your dough?" he asked warily.

"You don't think I can make you obey?" Zira asked coldly. "I'll enjoy showing you how very wrong you are. You'll make a very handsome lapdog indeed."

Crowley snorted loudly, keeping a calm exterior while inside he was desperately trying to find even one single miracle he could snap while in these bonds. All of his demonic powers melted into nothingness before he could finish pulling them up. He started to get a bit worried.

"Untie me," he growled menacingly. "Let me go. I'm not your fucking pet. I'm not some mewling wretch desperate for your touch. If you want a toy then go play wit—"

A leather gag appeared between his teeth, securing itself behind his head. 

"I won't hear another word against my husband," Zira scolded. "And while I agree you're not wretched, _despite how you're currently behaving_ , you _are_ desperate for touch, aren't you, Red? Oh I think you'll be 'mewling' beautifully for me."

Crowley swallowed thickly around the gag. He shouldn't have said that. That had been a bad idea. He shook his head, trying to walk his comments back but the gag was making that impossible. He whined in what he hoped was an apologetic manner as Zira took out his cellular and began a call. The angel was ignoring him now, concentrating on his call to Anthony and making arrangements to _take Crowley to Soho for a while!_

"Ohshitohshitohshit!," Crowley yelped into the gag.

******

Crowley had seen the so-called flat above the bookshop a few times over the years. It was little more than a bedroom with an ensuite bath. The rest of the upstairs was eaten up by the massive mezzanine (lined with more bookshelves) and the impressive dome style skylights that Crowley secretly coveted.

It was small and stuffy and cluttered. It was aggressively anti-stylish. So it went without saying that he was more than a bit surprised to see signs of his counterpart having actually lived in this space for a bit. 

The window was framed by a massive marble queen pothos and the walls were decorated in old star maps. Several pairs of sunglasses rested on an ornate watch stand on the dresser. There were small signs of Anthony everywhere he looked.

There wasn't an excessive amount of floor space left now that Aziraphale's little single bed had been replaced by a double-sized mattress in the four poster bed. The nightstand held a reading lamp and was otherwise empty (but would no doubt be stacked with books if Aziraphale were spending the night. Crowley could only guess at what was in those nightstand drawers but given how he was already fighting an erection he decided _not_ to think about it.

The red rope was now wound snugly around his wrists but his body was otherwise free. His powers were still sluggish and suppressed. He sat on the bed and stared warily at Zira. Zira, in turn, sat in the overstuffed chair near the closet and stared back at Crowley with a considering gaze. The anticipation was killing the demon and the angel _had_ to know that. Crowley growled at him again behind his gag and tried to roll the tension out of his shoulders.

"We need a metric by which to judge this challenge, I think," Zira announced finally and the gag vanished leaving Crowley dry mouthed and sucking his teeth distastefully. 

"Am I allowed to talk now?" he asked spitefully.

"Yes. I'll require your input on this, obviously," Zira smiled fondly. "Although I consider it a very good sign that you're already asking permission to speak while bound. We'll have to work on your tone, but one step at a time."

"I wasn't asking permission!" Crowley snapped before realizing that technically he had. "For somebody's sake, _that was sarcasm!"_

"Ah, that's a shame," Zira sighed. "In any case, help me decide the goal for the exercise. How will I know when the challenge is complete?"

"Doesn't matter," Crowey jeered. "All you're doing is inspiring me to be more bastardly."

"I don't doubt your stubborness in the least," Zira smiled. "I look forward to the challenge. I just need to know exactly what I'm working to have you do."

Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering the best way to turn this to his advantage. His thoughts collapsed into a jumbled pile of anxious arousal when Zira suddenly chuckled to himself, low and rich and warm. 

"You're in sore need of discipline and patience and you need to learn to accept care," Aziraphale smiled at him, his eyes shining with a dark light. 

Crowley swallowed nervously and looked away. He snorted petulantly and tried to hide how turned on he was.

"That's a lot to expect, Angel," Crowley argued. "Probably take decades and I'm pretty sure your husband will miss you."

"Sweet of you to be concerned," Zira teased. "These aren't my _goals_ , dear Red. Just facts. And no amount of training will be remotely useful as long as you're determined to fight it tooth and nail."

Crowley jerked his head to look at the angel again in alarm. Was Zira going to give up this venture and let him go? He was suddenly overcome with real dread and the source of it left him cold. He should be thrilled at the prospect of forgoing this 'challenge' and concentrating on getting home. He _should_ be fighting tooth and nail. He wasn't a lapdog. He wasn't meek or obedient. He didn't want this!

Shit, but _did_ he though? It was starting to feel like he _might_.

"You giving up already," he jeered, shooting the angel his most obnoxious grin with no idea what he was trying to accomplish anymore.

"Oh my, no," Zira laughed lightly. Crowley's pulse began to speed as the angel stood and crossed the room, taking his chin in hand. He looked down at Crowley with a confident and stern expression. "I'm going to make you beg to be trained."

Crowley scoffed, his pride making him laugh at the ridiculousness of the thought to keep him from moaning in want.

"Mmm, yes. Laugh all you wish dear," Zira smiled at him. "But do so while removing your trousers."

Crowley's laughter faltered into a confused grin. "Are you going to untie me then?"

"No," Zira answered lightly. "You can reach."

Crowley glared at the angel, muttering under his breath and slowly toeing his shoes off to buy time. How was he going to get out of his tight jeans using bound hands without flailing around like a snared fish? Maybe it was time to start balking? He cast a questioning glance at Zira, assessing his options. 

"You won't be happy if I have to remove them for you," Zira vowed, his voice still moderate and his smile still in place.

"Um…" Crowley stalled. It wasn't that he _disbelieved_ the implied threat. It was just that now he was _curious_. Heavily suspecting he might regret it, he shrugged with a nonchalant smirk and drawled "Nah."

Zira said nothing in response but Crowley found himself forcefully shoved into the mattress and pinned down with one hand in the center of his back. The demon squirmed against the pressure, gasping at the angel's strength. Zira's other hand grasped Crowley's waistband and pulled. 

The tight denim snagged against his sharp hip bones, digging into him. There was another strong tug and the denim gave out, tearing slightly around the waist. Zira dragged the material down his legs and off. Crowley groaned into the mattress, suddenly desperately hard. No regrets.

Zira opened the bedside drawer and Crowley stilled, his eyes widening as he the angel pulled a paddle out. It was sturdy and solid looking, made of polished wood and padded with leather. 

Regrets _! Regrets!_ Crowley whined and squirmed again in earnest. Zira lifted him and set him back down over his lap.

"How fond are you of the rest of your clothing?" Zira asked nicely, running warm fingers under the collar of his jacket. Crowley shivered in nervous arousal.

"Uh… I mean, I could summon up a new set again I suppose," he admitted. "Assuming I ever get my powers back."

There was a breath of air across his skin and Crowley found himself completely bare. He shivered again as Zira’s hand lightly cupped his rounded arse before lightly stroking his skin.

Crowley waited for the first thwack of the paddle but it didn’t come. Zira just kept idly stroking his arse until the demon finally got fed up with it and started struggling again.

“What are you waiting for?” he hissed after being yanked back into place.

“Tell me how many strikes to give you,” Zira ordered, and Crowley groaned as his cock twitched against the angel’s thigh. 

“Uh… if it’s up to me then...none?” Crowley suggested cheekily. “Zero strikes?”

“Oh, after all the disobedience and sass, I think you deserve _some_ punishment, wouldn’t you say?” Zira chuckled, still lazily tracing his fingers over Crowley’s touch sensitive skin. “Plus you ran off on us all to make a deal with an evil fae and nearly got yourself discorporated, and you stole my husband’s beloved car. I’ll ask you again. How many strikes do you deserve?”

Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes. “Angel, the sun will swallow the earth before you could strike me all the times I _deserve.”_

The fingers ceased their casual wandering across his backside for a moment, then began again. Zira hummed thoughtfully at that. “You’ve made some poor choices tonight, but nothing that requires being spanked until the sun swells.”

Crowley groaned in frustration this time. “S’not what I meant and you know it,” he growled. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m not going to punish you for being a demon, Red dear,” Zira told him. “Why don’t we begin with five strokes. Does that seem fair?”

“Sure, whatever,” Crowley grumbled.

“Excellent. The safeword will be Argyle. What is the safeword?”

“Argyle,” Crowley answered, mocking the angel’s accent.

The first smack of the paddle against his backside still came as a surprise even after he braced for it. It stung, but didn’t particularly hurt. The second strike landed in the same spot and that one _did_ hurt. The third landed on the other side and Crowley yelped, trying to wriggle away. His erection rubbed against Zira’s clothed thigh as he struggled, making him jump and moan as the fourth strike landed crisply. Crowley cried out that time, heart racing. It hurt. It actually hurt! He didn't believe the angel had it in him!

“You’re doing very well, Red, darling,” Zira told him. “Just one more. Are you ready?”

Crowley could say no. He could safeword out and this would end. Zira would be disappointed but why should _he_ care? He didn’t need any of this bloody _training_ nonsense. There wasn’t a single thing to be gained by letting the angel continue this farce. 

Right?

“Are you ready?” Zira asked again. “You know what to say if you’re not.”

“Ready,” Crowley snarled, drowning in his internal confusion. The last smack was searing, leaving a prickling of heat over his skin. Crowley bit back a blasphemous cry and buried his face in the blankets. His chest was heaving and tears freely ran down his face. Every inch of him was coated in a cooling layer of perspiration. His arse felt like it was on fire.

“Well done, dear,” Zira cooed, lightly stroking his fingers over his inflamed skin again. Crowley twitched and moaned obscenely as that gentle stroking sensation was magnified by the heat. Zira lifted him again and set him down in the middle of the bed on his knees.

“Don’t come,” Zira whispered in his ear.

“Not a bloody problem,” Crowley growled back knowing his snark would have landed heavier if he wasn’t still so bloody hard. Zira pressed him forward onto his elbows before blowing cool air across the hot skin of his backside. His nerves lit up like fireflies and he shivered as the prickling sensation began to transmute from irritation to pleasure. Then the soft, wet pressure of Zira’s tongue licked a thick stripe over the swell of his arse and Crowley swore under his breath at the intensity of it. 

“Okay...it… Hrrk!” Crowley gasped and writhed as Zira continued to wash Crowley’s fevered skin with his tongue. “It might be a _bit_ of a problem…”

“Don’t come,” Zira repeated firmly before licking the sensitive skin around his rim. Crowley laughed to keep from crying. 

“Not sure you’re gonna give me a lot of choice in the matter,” he whined, shuddering with pleasure. “Never was known for my abundance of self control and you’re not exactly going easy on me here.”

“Self-control would come with _training_ ,” Zira told him, pressing kisses against his hip while a soft finger now gently stroked his entrance. Crowley involuntarily bucked his hips. “But you don’t want to be trained, isn’t that right?”

“So we agree that I should definitely come?” Crowley asked hopefully.

“I’ll _help_ you control yourself tonight,” Zira chuckled fondly. “You don’t know how to be good yet. I completely understand. I’ll teach you what you need to know for now.”

“Not gonna be trained!” Crowley snapped, shoving himself back against that questing finger. Zira immediately pulled his hand away and got up off the bed. Crowley waited, confused. He eyed the paddle warily when Zira picked it up but the angel returned it to the drawer, rooting around for something else.

“Let’s try something different,” the angel suggested, gently pulling Crowley upright until he was seated over his heels. The angel’s warm hand stroked over the demon’s throbbing cock as he hissed and moaned. His eyes drifted closed as the pleasure built at the base of his spine.

“Angel… That’s gonna make me…”

“You can come this time, dear,” Zira assured him. “Let’s get the first one out of the way, hmm?”

“Yes yes yes…” Crowley agreed because _obviously_ yes _let’s_. The angel’s other hand reached back under him, stroking and prodding and as Crowley felt his climax build two slick fingers breached him at once. Crowley’s eyes flew open wide as he came, spurting ropes of spend across the bedsheets with a helpless cry. Zira milked him through it, stretching him out with one hand while the other gently stroked his cock until it began to soften. The fingers withdrew from his entrance and Zira held him against his chest until his heartbeat evened out again.

“Very good. That’s better, isn’t it,” the angel murmured into his hair, kissing his temple. Crowley nodded, a weak smile of satisfaction playing across his lips. It was _muuuch_ better.

Something cool and restrictive snapped over his cock and Crowley startled, looking down at his lap while Zira strapped part of a cock ring around his bollocks. He snorted and looked over his shoulder at the angel.

“Kinky,” he smirked.

“You have no idea,” Zira smirked back, lifting a small black device that looked like an old pager. Crowley stared at it, then blinked. It _was_ a pager.

“My cock is talented, but I don’t think it can make calls,” Crowley deadpanned.

“It's enchanted, like most of our toys,” Zira explained with a touch of fond exasperation. “This will warn me when you’re about to come so I can… help you control yourself.”

“Shit…” Crowley groaned. “Orgasm denial? _Really?_ Can we just go back to the paddle?”

“ _Edging_ , technically,” Zira corrected. “We’ll work on your self control and your patience tonight, but I won’t deny you fully. You will come again tonight once you’ve earned it.”

Twitch twitch, his cock was already interested. Bloody hell! What was wrong with him? Crowley side-eyed the pager then gave his wrists an experimental yank to see if the bonds had perhaps loosened during this time. They had not. Crowley let out a long sigh.

“How do I _earn it_?” he asked, annoyed. 

“That’s the easy part,” Zira told him brightly. “Just do as you're told.”

**********

Crowley hadn’t thought he would get back to the brink of orgasm as quickly as he did but there was something about the powerlessness of his position that was just _doing it for him._

He’d been pressed against the mattress again, arse high in the air while Zira took his time working him open with fingers and tongue. The ropes around his wrists were soft against his cheek. He’d felt himself start that familiar climb and warned Zira himself rather than let the bloody pager do it. 

The beautiful teasing sensations ceased immediately and Zira gently rested a steadying hand against his upper back as Crowley gulped in air he didn’t need, whimpering in frustration. Zira spoke to him gently, complimented him, but the demon was offered no further stimulation and it was complete and utter _bollocks_! The bastard angel left him like that for fifteen minutes, well after his cock started to flag, before finally resuming the slow preparation of his entrance for Hell only knew what purpose.. 

The build up was slower this time, but Crowley was even more aware of it. Every nerve seemed to stretch towards the angel. He was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else but the pressure of fingers and tongue. He heard the wet sounds of something slick being applied so something hard and moaned eagerly.

“Yes, finally. Fuck me, please,” he groaned. Something butted up against his rim and slowly slid inside, but it was too thin and much too rigid to be the angel’s cock. 

“Wot— ?” he began before cutting off as the object nudged his prostate and set a quick burst of colourful pleasure behind his eyes. Zira withdrew the object a bit before sliding it back in again, slowly fucking Crowley with the little toy. It felt good, but it wasn’t good _enough._ It was too small, too slow, Crowley twisted and chewed his lip, trying to get more stimulation. 

He’d tried once before to slither his bound hands down under him to rub his cock, but Zira had caught him and put him in time out for half an hour while he swore and threatened. He’d tried to rub himself against the bed with tiny little thrusts and Zira had repositioned him like this to rob him of even that much control!

“S’not enough,” Crowley whined.

“Not enough for what, Red?” Zira asked innocently, still gently working the toy in and out.

“Need more… please…”

“Do you deserve more?"

Crowley dropped his head back to the mattress with a groan of resignation. He didn't. He didn't deserve anything. He still _wanted_ though. He wanted all sorts of things he'd never deserve.

The things he _did_ deserve he sure as fuck didn't want.

"I asked you a question, Red," Zira reminded him, removing the toy from his body and ending its inadequate stimulation. Crowley looked over his shoulder and blinked at the angel. Zira looked completely at ease. Shirtsleeves rolled up (pulling another hot moan from Crowley's throat) and bowtie removed. The top two buttons of his crisp grey shirt were undone but otherwise he looked perfectly unaffected. 

"Sorry," he panted. "Thought it was rhetorical."

"Ah, I see," Zira nodded. "If I ask you a question while we're in this…" he searched for a word, " _context_ , I will always expect a verbal response. If you happen to be gagged at the time I will expect a clear nod or shake of the head. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Crowley answered. Zira leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips and Crowley hummed happily, opening his mouth for him. Zira pulled Crowley upright to kiss him more soundly, stroking up and down his long back. 

"That was my error, for not being clearer about the rules," Zira told him. "I'm going to allow you permission to ask for clarification any time you need it, even if I have ordered you to be silent. Will you use this freedom I'm granting you in good faith, dear?"

Crowley wasn't good at operating in good faith and was about to say so but he stopped himself in the nick of time. Zira was looking at him so earnestly, and holding him so gently. 

It was easy to consider all of this as just a weird new sex thing when his face was shoved in the sheets but now… it felt like more. He didn't want to disappoint the angel. On the face of it, there was that pull, that _this is not my angel but it is still Aziraphale and Aziraphale is my angel so this is my angel and **my brain is exploding** _ aspect of it all. But under _that_ there was the fresh fear that Zira (specifically Zira) would give up on him. 

And Crowley was shocked to discover he really _really_ didn't want that. This challenge was over. Zira didn't know that yet but Crowley did. 

"Can I ask a question now?" he whispered against soft lips. 

"You may," Zira told him, leaning back so Crowley couldn't steal another kiss. Crowley winced, realizing he almost forgot himself, unsure what the consequences for that might have been. Zira looked kind and warm, but also professional and stern. Crowley swallowed hard, relieved the angel had decided to let the error slide.

"I understand what you've offered and... appreciate it. I…" he struggled with the words he needed to say. They snagged on his jagged pride, fraying at the edges and eking off his tongue between strained whines. "I'll probably need to ask...but…"

"Tell me what's worrying you, dear one," Zira ordered. His voice was soft and gentle but it was an order all the same.

"I'm not used to this. I'm not used to wanting this," Crowley gasped, feeling hot pricking of tears behind his eyes and hating it. Zira slowly drew him up again in his arms and stroked his hair. "You don't know how badly I want to fight you though. Even _this_ ," Crowley told him, trying to indicate the embrace with his chin. "It feels good and I want to run away from it because it feels good. 

"I _want_ to use the freedom in good faith, Angel. But I _always_ want to do things in good faith with you, with the _other you_. I always fail."

He shook his head, pulling himself out of the circle of Zira's arms.

"Better not to risk it," he choked on the weight of his own admission. "Take the freedom back."

"No," Zira told him. He stroked a warm hand over Crowley's hip and then the maddening toy slid back into place, continuing its slow in and out as Zira spoke to him. "You can ask for clarification because that is what I've decided you need to be able to do to keep this safe for both of us. 

"If you misuse the freedom there will be consequences. I have no doubt that you may fail once or twice, but I think the benefits outweigh the risk. You'll hardly be spoiled by being able to ask how to be good."

"You're going to give up on me," Crowley muttered. "I'll push you away if you let me. It's in my nature."

"Don't you think I know that?" Zira sighed. "I'm well aware of your nature. I assure you I will never give up on you, and I will not let you run or push me away."

The toy was removed again, this time to be replaced by two blunt fingers. It was immensely better than the frustrating little toy and Crowley moaned loudly, curling his fingers into the blanket. 

"After all," Zira continued as he curled his fingers expertly, making Crowley gasp and shudder. "You're not the first Crowley I've met. Why do you think we have so many enchanted ropes?"

Crowley laughed. It felt good to laugh. Then Zira curled his fingers again and pressed, and Crowley's mind went blank with throbbing pleasure. 

Zira massaged his prostate with regular strokes while placing soothing open-mouthed kisses along his shivering spine and hips. Crowley moaned desperately, exalting in every prodding thrust until his eyes began to roll back and Zira's pager chirped.

"Fffff— No!" Crowley cried as Zira withdrew his wonderful fingers to once again gently rub the demon's shoulders and remind him to be patient. Crowley clawed at the blanket and very nearly started sobbing.

"What do you want?" he begged. "Tell me what to do!"

"You know what to do," Zira told him. 

Crowley bloody _didn't!_ If he did he'd be enjoying a post-coital nap right now. He nearly snarled that at the aggravating angel but managed to catch himself at the last moment. Zira seemed to see his struggling and smiled proudly at him before kissing his neck.

"You're doing so well, Red," he cooed. "I'm very impressed so far with your restraint. I know it's a challenge, sweetheart. You're being so good for me right now."

Crowley whined, trying to press his own skin against Zira's lips. The praise was immensely encouraging, which he supposed was the point, but Crowley wasn't prepared for just how much it helped! His cock was still furiously hard and his body was aching with tension, but the screaming in his head quieted to make room for Zira's words. He managed to control his panicked gasping and breath more evenly as he listened. Everything fell away except Zira's voice.

"You're stronger than you know," he was saying. "You're beautiful and immensely clever. That's it. See how good you are? You've gotten yourself back under control. Very very good."

"Good enough for you to finally fuck me into the mattress?" Crowley snickered. Zira went dead still behind him and Crowley's eyes widened, realizing his mistake. 

"I'm sorry! How do I fix it?" he cried immediately. His heart hammering in his throat.

"Control yourself," Zira answered firmly. Crowley held his breath and waited for further instruction. Zira wasn't touching him anymore, the praising had stopped. He felt himself begin to panic, a strangled whine forcing itself through his clenched teeth. 

Suddenly Zira's fingers were sliding through his hair once more and scratching at that wonderful spot at the nape of his neck. Crowley collapsed in a heap over his own lap at both the relief and the soft pleasure. "I'm here," Zira murmured. "Are you ready to begin again?"

"Yes," Crowley sighed, pulling himself back into position. "Still dunno what you want. Is it something to do with _my_ Aziraphale? Did I do something wrong earlier? Is it something to do with the bloody Selkie?"

"I want you to think," Zira told him, slipping his freshly slicked fingers back inside the demon and resuming his beautifully perfect ministrations. Crowley gasped at the first contact with his prostate and moaned so loudly he nearly missed what the angel was saying.

"I want you to think about the things I've said instead of spinning off and making assumptions," Zira said firmly

"Oh shit is this a lesson inside a lesson?!" Crowley grumbled. Zira hummed an affirmative and rewarded his realization by increasing his pace. Crowley groaned, almost afraid of the little ball of pressure rebuilding itself at the base of his spine. _Think think think._

"This isn't helping me think!" he cried as Zira began a thorough prostate exam. 

"Would you like me to stop?" Zira asked sweetly. "Do you remember the safeword?"

"Yes I remember the fucking safeword," Crowley growled. "I'm not going to use the safeword! I don't want you to _stop_ I want to...I want… ah! Haah… hnnk!"

Zira was really working him over now. The angel pulled him upright against his broad chest and thrust his fingers deep as Crowley cried out garbled encouragement. His other hand wrapped around Crowley's cock for the first time in what felt like hours (and indeed might have been knowing both their stubbornness). 

"Shit! Yes! Please!"

The stimulation built and then ebbed _again_. Zira held him tightly, slowing his strokes and lightening his touch gradually until Crowley was suspended in frustrated agony.

"Please please _please_ , Angel," Crowley sobbed. "For somebody's sake, have some bloody mercy!"

"Please what?"

"Please… please Aziraphale," Crowley groaned.

"Please _what?_ " Zira asked again, more pointedly. "What do you want?"

"I want to come, please. I'm trying. I'm trying to think of what you want but—"

"I'm waiting. You're so close dear," Zira whispered. Crowley was abundantly aware of exactly how close he was! He struggled to find that control he'd had to find between bouts of near-orgasmic highs but this time the angel wasn't fully withdrawing to give him time. 

Gentle fingers continued to stretch and stroke him while Zira trailed kisses along his jaw. This fucking challenge of his was going to discorporate Crowley!

Challenge...wait… 

"Wait," Crowley muttered, his eyes creaking open to stare at the wall opposite him. Was it that simple?

"Please, train me?" he sniffed, trembling in the angel's hands. Zira tightened his grip on Crowley's cock at once and gave it a firm beautiful stroke. Crowley's head fell back against the angel's shoulder with an open-mouthed shout of joy. "Ah! Please! Please train me, Angel. I— Ahh! Yes! Shit! _Please!_ "

Zira thrust into him again, his fingers questing deep as he added a third finger. Crowley sobbed and wailed, falling apart in the angel's arms.

"Please! _Please_ let me come, please please…"

"Yes, Red darling," Zira growled against his neck and Crowley's toes curled at how hot that was. "Come for me, gorgeous. Come for me now."

Crowley screamed, throwing his head back hard against the angel's shoulder as his orgasm consumed him. It was almost violent in its intensity, as if his very soul was being pulled out through his cock. 

He left his body for a moment, _useless leaking thing_ , and collapsed lifelessly in Zira's ridiculously strong arms. He felt the angel lift him and opened his eyes (still in the corporation after all then) and closed them again as the pleasure faded, replaced with an uncontrollable shaking.

"Ummm…" he hummed nervously, his sharp teeth chattering in his skull. "What's happening?"

"You're all right, dear," Zira assured him but Crowley found this dubious. He never shook like this when he was _all right._ Zira wrapped him in the blanket but he immediately began to shiver out of it. Tears were streaming down his face, blurring his vision and choking him with emotion. His lungs contracted. He was definitely not all right!

"Help?" Crowley yelped at the angel. Zira re-secured the blanket and picked up the freshly burrito-ed demon. 

"I've just the thing, sweetheart," Zira vowed, his wings sweeping over Crowley protectively. When they opened again the bookshop had melted away and they were back in the cottage.

"Back sooner than I expected," Anthony's voice intoned dryly from somewhere to his left. "I figured you'd be — oh shit! — come over here with him." Anthony drew them into the living room, strolling into Crowley's field of vision. The demon frowned down at him, his yellow eyes wide with sympathetic understanding. It was an exceptionally _un-demonic_ expression.

"Crowley?" he heard Aziraphale call, hurrying over to him. Zira passed him over to the other Principality. Crowley would have found it humiliating to be passed off like he was a child, but he was shaking violently and on the verge of panic and wanted nothing more than exactly this. Aziraphale. His Angel. He clung to Aziraphale, desperately digging his fingers into the soft waistcoat.

"I'm here, Crowley," Aziraphale told him. "I have you now, dear heart."

Crowley shuddered a great sigh, tucking his wet face against his angel's shoulder.

"Come down here on the floor with him," Anthony insisted. Aziraphale gracefully folded himself down the floor, setting Crowley on his lap. Anthony wrapped his skinny arms around Crowley as well.

"It'll stop soon, mate," the other demon whispered to him. "You're safe. This just happens sometimes. It'll be fine."

Crowley nodded, already starting to feel steadier. Aziraphale held him tightly, murmuring comforting sounds into his hair. His familiar scent filled Crowley's nose bringing with it that particular feeling the Welsh called _hiraeth._ It was wholesome, painful and healing, all at once. 

Anthony nuzzled into his neck and hugged him from behind. Zira tucked himself in beside Anthony, folding his giant wings over all of them as he stroked his hair with one hand and Anthony's with the other. Crowley began to relax into the pile of comforting bodies around him. He gave in to the sensation of being tightly held and protected.

"Angel," he whispered, his mouth pressed into the heavy fabric covering Aziraphale's chest. He hoped his angel could hear him anyway, that he could feel his hopelessly complex love, longing, and anxiety. He would never be able to articulate it all.

"I know, my dearest," Aziraphale murmured. 

"Do hedgehogs eat snakes, Angel?" Crowley asked weakly. He pretended not to notice the brief exchange of meaningful glances between the two Principalities. 

"Of course not," Aziraphale answered fondly and Crowley sighed happily.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shakes are a physiological stress response after a massive release. The old *cries after sex* kind of thing, only ramped up to 11. Since this is written from Crowley's POV and he is a (very) unreliable narrator, I wanted to make it clear that he isn’t in any actual danger and it will quickly run its course. Anthony has been through it (probably a lot), so he and Zira understand what’s going on. But look! He’s accepting care! Progress!


	18. Weird!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training begins and Crowley starts to let go of his control issues while still struggling with how weird everything seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is broken into two parts to make it more manageable to read (and to write. There’s a lot of dicks to keep track of here!) I’ve tried to add a bit more character detail to book boys which is challenging because you won’t get their POVs until Part Two. 
> 
> CW, sensory deprivation, bondage, (This whole fic is a CW, really.) Voyeurism? I’m kinda late with that tag, sorry.

Crowley glared at his cocoa. Zira had put it in his hands ten minutes ago and then left. He was sprawled across the sofa, half leaning against Aziraphale with the angel's arm around him. He hadn't managed to look up at him yet. 

He felt weird. The heavy shaking had subsided and left him weak and twitchy. He felt lost, and felt _angry_ about feeling lost. He'd chosen his course every step of the way that night. He chose to go see the selkie. He chose to goad Zira over and over knowing it would work out exactly as it did. He chose to submit in the end, to agree to be "trained". 

He had chosen it all. No one to blame but himself. That was familiar territory at least. Crowley was well practiced at self-blame. So why was he feeling weird?

Anthony sauntered over and plucked the mug of cocoa from his hand and replaced it with a full glass of Scotch. The demon wordlessly passed the cocoa to Aziraphale then casually moved Crowley's legs. He flipped down and reset Crowley's legs across his lap, shooting him a lopsided smile and a wink. 

Crowley sipped the Scotch and forced himself to relax against Aziraphale. The whiskey warmed his throat and pooled in his belly and out of the blue he realized the weird feeling was _guilt!_

“Shit,” he muttered, tensing up. The angel and demon looked at him and he gave a queasy smile. “I uh… sssSomething happened at the shop tonight and…” _This is going to go terribly. Why do I have to talk about this? ShutUpShutUpShutUuuup!_

“Zira fucked you into submission?” Anthony guessed with a wry smile. “That’s usually what causes _me_ to shake like that.”

Crowley felt faint and shot Anthony a pained look. He could feel Aziraphale tensing behind him. “He didn’t _fuck me_ ,” Crowley insisted, although ‘getting fingered into oblivion’ probably counted as getting fucked. “It _was_ sex though,” he admitted. _And feelings happened. Yuck. Gross. Ick._ “And I did… there was… submission.” _Ugh. blergh. fnuh._

“What exactly does that mean?” Aziraphale asked quietly. Crowley wanted to straighten up and look at the angel, face this head on, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. 

“I agreed to be… trained,” he muttered. “I dunno exactly what that means, but he seemed to think it would help me and I’ve gotten it into my head to trust the bloody angel… but the last thing I want is to hurt—”

“That’s wonderful, Crowley!” Aziraphale gushed and Crowley blinked as a strong arm suddenly squeezed him hard enough to force a squeak out of his lungs.

_Wonderful?_ He’d been so sure Aziraphale would be hurt, or angry, or jealous. He was less concerned about Anthony’s feelings, but figured the demon might have some valid concerns about Crowley’s compromising fling with his husband. The demon was smirking at him mischievously, but he didn’t seem remotely upset.

“I’m not complaining, but I kinda thought this confession was gonna get a very different reaction,” he admitted, finally looking up at the angel’s shining eyes. Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to look guilty and those luminous blue eyes flicked nervously at Anthony and Crowley put two and two together. Repeatedly. In various sticky positions.

“Well well well…” he purred, smirking at Aziraphale while the angel blushed furiously. “Felt that pull I mentioned again, did you?”

“You _did_ suggest it would be all right to indulge,” Aziraphale responded haughtily.

“An indulgence, am I?” Anthony teased. Aziraphale made an embarrassed giggly sound and hid his face behind the mug of cocoa and it was _adorable_.

“A scrumptious indulgence, my dear,” Zira chimed in, entering the room with zero understanding of the conversation he was joining. Anthony turned his playful smirk on his husband. 

“You managed to get Red to commit to training already!” he said admiringly. “Impressive, Angel. I figured that would take weeks!”

“Well, as I told him, I’ve had quite a lot of practice,” Zira smiled, placing a kiss on Anthony’s head. “It took significantly longer than ‘weeks’ with you, after all.”

“Meh,” Anthony playfully shoved the angel away. “Get off.”

“I’m happy you told them about your training,” Zira added, turning his attention to Crowley. He felt himself flush at the light praise and sulked into his glass. “That will make the rest of the evening much easier.”

“Aww, are you doing the threesome _now?_ ” Anthony complained, folding his arms across his chest. Crowley arched an eyebrow at them both. Although it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Zira might expect a threesome immediately, he figured he and Aziraphale might be consulted first. 

And it surprised Crowley to find that he wasn’t particularly in the mood. He was excited to participate (sex with two Aziraphales? Yes fucking please!) but he was mentally exhausted.

“Not tonight, no,” Zira shook his head and sank into the overstuffed chair opposite the sofa. “Red looks a bit knackered, and I think we should discuss the training more as a group so we’re all on the same page.”

“Pft, boring,” Anthony snorted, proving he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything. Crowley gave him a sound kick.

“I’d like to be involved from now on,” Aziraphale spoke up. Crowley blushed even deeper and he once again had to question if this was all actually happening. Maybe he was in a coma. That would explain a lot actually…

“I would expect no less,” Zira nodded. “You’ll need to continue after you go home, after all.”

“Do I want to do this?” Crowley asked. The angels fell silent and looked at him. Crowley had been asking himself that question on repeat ever since he’d agreed in the first place. Did he want it or did he agree just so he could finally come? After all, there’s a reason torture wasn’t any good for gathering information (Hell only implemented it for punishment or entertainment, but never for interrogation). People would agree to anything to make the torture stop. 

But Crowley was used to torture, and what Zira was doing to him definitely wasn’t torture… so _did he want to do this?_

He frowned, blinked, and _finally_ realized not only had he said the question out loud, but he’d directed it at Anthony. His counterpart looked at him and seemed to mull the question over. 

“Right, S’cuse us, Angels,” Anthony announced, pushing Crowley’s legs off him as he pulled himself up. The demon grabbed Crowley’s arm and yanked him to his feet too, only avoiding spilling the Scotch by use of a miracle. Crowley hastily grabbed the sheet he was wrapped in to keep it from falling off his naked body as Anthony dragged him along into the kitchen.

“Is this really necessary?” Crowley snapped, pulling his arm back roughly and spilling the no-longer-miracled Scotch all over himself. Anthony laughed at him as he scowled and swiped at the alcohol soaking into his chest through the sheet.

“You asked me a heavy question mate, and I need to get a sense of your footing before I give you my answer,” Anthony drawled, leaning against the worktop. “Didn’t figure you wanted to talk it out in front of the angels, but we can go back in if I was wrong ‘bout that.”

“I didn’t even really mean to ask you the question,” Crowley sighed. “Just thinking out loud.”

“Would you let your angel tie you up?” Anthony asked, point blank, surprising Crowley with his directness.

“Um…” Crowley shifted his weight so the folds of the sheet would hide his stirring erection. “Yeah. Think I could.”

“Would you _enjoy_ him telling you what to do?” Anthony asked seriously. Crowley cleared his throat, feeling nervous. This wasn’t what he was supposed to enjoy.

“Not supposed to want to take orders from—” 

“I bloody _know_ that, mate,” Anthony snapped. “I’m a demon too, you idiot. I’m you! I’m not asking what you think you should or shouldn’t want. I’m asking if, when you imagine the scenario of your angel tying you up and ordering you around, do you think you’d enjoy it?”

Crowley flushed angrily and looked down at the tile floor. It mattered that he wasn’t supposed to want that. It mattered that he’d spent thousands of years telling himself he didn’t want the angel, let alone that he wanted to fall at the bloody Principality’s feet! It mattered!

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It would be fine.”

“All the stuff that’s telling you it won’t be fine is exactly what starts to go away with the training,” Anthony told him and Crowley looked up again. The brunette was watching him without so much as a hint of mockery. He looked serious. He looked like he understood. “And it isn’t always easy, and I don’t think anyone expects you to suddenly shed Hell’s skin overnight. _If_ your angel _does_ , we’ll have to put that out of his head right away.”

“I keep feeling like I have to fight it,” Crowley told him. Anthony nodded.

“I don’t think that ever really goes away,” he admitted. “But you figure it out, and some things help more than others. It's a whole journey really. Feels good not to have to be in charge of it all the time though. Don’t you ever just want to sit back and be passive?”

“No,” Crowley answered immediately. “Never had that luxury, honestly.”

“You do now,” Anthony shrugged, and Crowley felt that like a punch to the gut. You’d think getting fired from Hell after preventing the apocalypse wasn’t the sort of details one could easily forget, but you had to remember that Crowley had lived a very long time and could remember a lot of very unpleasant things. He was _used_ to unpleasant things. Used to experiencing them, surviving them, avoiding them, inflicting them on others… lots and lots and loads and loads of unpleasantness sprinkled liberally like salt over the wound that was his existence. 

So, as bloody monumental an incident as thwarting The End ™ was , Crowley still compartmentalized it as ‘thing that happened- consequences pending” and just settled into a holding pattern while waiting for the shoe to drop. He’d never looked at it as an event that had concluded, let alone one that necessitated a paradigm shift. 

But here he was on the other side of Armageddon, with all his limbs attached and Aziraphale was with him, and he had allies (of undetermined use) and it was just now occurring to him that things could be very different indeed moving forward and wasn’t that just… weird.

“Mmn ng umm... It… it could be good to, you know, shut it off for a bit,” Crowley admitted. Anthony smiled broadly.

“It could be _very_ good,” Anthony smirked, and Crowley rolled his eyes and stomped back into the other room. The angels looked at him expectantly as he flopped down again beside Aziraphale. 

“Yes, fine. Training. Let’s do it. But if you’re going to tie me up or something, I demand you do it to that arsehole more,” he snarked, pointing to Anthony as he came snickering into the room. Anthony laughed at him again, bringing a hand to his chest in mock affrontment. 

“Oh!” Zira blinked. “I suppose we could do a joint demonstration. That might be fun.”

Crowley stayed silent, unaware of what he might have just suggested. Anthony looked between Zira and Crowley with exaggerated wariness and a nervous little laugh. “Oh no… what did you just do?” he asked Crowley.

“Oh yes,” Zira’s smile was turning positively evil. “Plenty of fun indeed.”

“So long as you remember that we are novices, as I asked,” Aziraphale interjected firmly, his eyes narrowed as a protective arm swept over Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley looked up at his angel in surprise, seeing a glimpse of the militant powerhouse hidden under layers of politeness, academia and tweed. He damn near bloody _swooned_!

“Of course,” Zira nodded. “And you will be quick to remind me should I suggest something out of bounds?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale agreed, his stony visage softening. The angels seemed to reach some sort of accord, and then Zira clapped his hands twice and Crowley’s throne appeared in the middle of the room. Crowley’s eyes widened as he stared at it, and got even wider when he looked back at Zira and the angel was holding the three enchanted ropes. 

“You remember Sean’s release word?” Zira asked him. Crowley nodded. “What is it?”

“Pomegranate,” Crowley answered tetchily. The constant double checking was annoying. Zira nodded approvingly and tossed the black rope to Aziraphale before turning his attention to Anthony and beginning the weirdest negotiation Crowley had ever witnessed.

“April all right?”

“Depends on what you’re wanting to do with her?” Anthony challenged.

“Hmm… Moving Day?” Zira suggested. Anthony pursed his lips and shot a quick glance at the door frame between the living room and kitchen for some reason before shrugging.

“Then I want Albus,” Anthony replied firmly. Zira seemed surprised but nodded. The white rope vanished, replaced with a long white silk scarf. 

“Anything else, dear?” Zira asked.

“Belgium, 1849,” Anthony responded.

“Oh,” Zira smiled warmly at his husband. “Very well.”

Anthony smiled and took the scarf from the angel, running it through his hands before perching himself on the sofa’s armrest.

Crowley stared at the demon, confused. Anthony had just set all the terms? Nearly all of that had been in their own little code, (so similar to how he and Aziraphale suggested plans time to time,) but clearly _Anthony_ was the one who just told _Zira_ how this was going to go. 

“I’m already confused,” Crowley muttered. “I thought the point of sitting back and being passive was that you _didn’t_ have to control things.”

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed. “So? What am I controlling?”

“You just set terms!”

“Crowley is always in control even when he’s bound,” Zira told them. “I give orders and directions, but I would never take away his control again. It is vitally important that you both understand that.”

“Yeah, I know about safewording out,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m just surprised by all the prior negotiation I guess.”

“I wouldn’t want to proceed with something he wouldn’t enjoy,” Zira answered as though that were completely obvious… and maybe it was in retrospect. In fairness, if he and Aziraphale had a wide enough repertoire to select a particular activity, Crowley would appreciate choosing sometimes.

“Again?” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley looked over at him in confusion, but Aziraphale was staring at his counterpart with confused horror. “You said you’d never take away his control _again?_ ”

Zira flushed a deep red and he gripped the bottom of his cardigan in the way Aziraphale did when he wanted to keep his hands from shaking. The motion made Crowley feel a little ill, just like it always did when he saw his angel in distress.

“There’s a learning curve to this shit,” Anthony snapped at Aziraphale, pulling their attention. “Just pay attention and make use of our advice, all right? It's more than we bloody got. We had to figure this all out on our own!”

“Of course,” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset anyone, I was just—”

“It’s all right, darling,” Zira told his husband before addressing Aziraphale (who was about to fluster off into the mother of all flustering). “A mistake was made. It's behind us now. I’ll make sure you both know what you need to know to avoid making a similar blunder, but that’s not a topic for tonight.”

Aziraphale nodded, chewing his lip and toying with the black rope. Anthony was scowling silently on the other end of the sofa and Zira was clearly doing his best to salvage things. Crowley didn’t like the tension settling over everything and decided it was time for action. 

“Who’s the throne for? Me or Anthony?” he demanded loudly.

“Stop calling me _Anthony_ ,” Anthony snapped.

“You,” Zira replied with a grateful smile, seeming happy for the change in subject. “If you’d like to?”

Crowley tossed the sheet off in a dramatic flourish and sauntered over to the throne, sitting down and crossing his legs at the knee. “Wot’s next?”

Zira showed Aziraphale how to section Sean into four segments, and instructed him on how to tie Crowley up this time and which knots were best to use. Crowley stayed still and tried not to break out in a sweat when Aziraphale took off his gabardine jacket and started rolling up his shirtsleeves. He failed. Shit! Forearms, _fuck_ ! Why was the angel so bloody gorgeous? Bless it, Crowley loved every inch of the bastard, wanted to rub his face over the fine hairs on his chest, lick a trail up that noble chin and devour that dainty mouth. He wanted to watch the muscles in those forearms tense as Aziraphale held Crowley down and stilled his playful struggling, folded him in half and just pounded him hard and deep until he could _feel it in this fucking throat!_

_Shit. Calm the hell down! He’s only rolled up his sleeves for fucksakes. What is he going to think if you come all over yourself before he’s even touched you!_

Crowley tried to control his _breathing_ when Aziraphale gently uncrossed his legs and tied his ankles to the front chair legs. He tried to control his _cock_ when Aziraphale bound his wrists one at a time and secured them to the back chair legs. He flexed his legs to test the strength of the ankle restraints but they held firm. Same with his wrists. Crowley was comfortably seated, but thoroughly restrained, and badly aroused. 

It was a little disturbing how hot this was. He watched Aziraphale’s every move, the pleasant excitement in his face as he listened with avid attention to Zira’s instructions. Crowley was glad the angel was paying such close attention because he sure as fuck wasn’t. The bowtie was coming off now, and Crowley groaned, his cock twitching against his stomach.

“Angel,” he moaned.

“I’m here, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “Oh my darling, you look exquisite like this. It is taking everything I have not to take you immediately.”

“Oh, Angel, fuck!” Crowley gasped. 

“Perhaps you should let your demon calm himself and come join Crowley and I over here,” Zira suggested kindly, redirecting Aziraphale over to the kitchen entryway. Anthony hopped off the armrest and joined the angels, his glasses and clothing vanishing at once as he handed the silk scarf over to his husband. 

Crowley took the opportunity to pull himself under control, pressing his lips together in an attempt to muffle another groan. He was still surprised at how much this was turning him on. He'd never given this scenario much thought, because why would he? If he ever _had_ , he wouldn't have imagined it feeling like _this_ …

**************

Anthony held his wrists out for Zira as the angel tied the silk into thick cuffs around them. The rest of the scarf hung down the front of his lovely golden body in a long white tail. 

Aziraphale watched the way Zira lovingly bound his husband's wrists, the relaxed postures and slow gentle touches. Anthony seemed completely at ease, a lazy smile on his lips, a slight cock of a hip. He might have looked bored if he weren't half hard already. It was such a stark contrast to how poor Crowley seemed to be faring. 

The redhead was lightly sweating, eyes shut tight and quietly swearing at himself. The long velvety cock stood proudly between the demon’s skinny hips, moving with the ragged breaths like metronome or a hypnotist’s watch. It was certainly casting a spell on Aziraphale. It took an extraordinary amount of effort to pry his eyes off it. Crowley was so _hard_ , poor thing, and they’d barely even begun.

He knew he wasn't exactly a cool customer himself. He wanted to run his hands over the stiff erection, suck a bruise into one of Crowley's sharp hips. He wanted to watch him shudder apart in ecstasy. He wanted to hear the demon moan his name.

"Brussels," Zira whispered behind him, drawing Aziraphale's attention back to the husbands. Anthony's eyes were closed now, smiling with fond amusement as Zira held him close and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Aziraphale wasn't sure if they knew he could hear. He shouldn't intrude, but he _was_ meant to be studying them, and he'd dreamed of having the freedom and confidence to speak to Crowley like that. It was inspiring and encouraging to witness.

"I love you so much, my own," Zira told him. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful, my love…" Zira pressed kisses against his demon's face before capturing his mouth and kissing him deeply until Anthony was groaning.

"Ready," Anthony murmured. "Thanks, Angel."

Zira kissed his brow then picked up the tail of the scarf, drawing it through a hidden loop at the top of the doorway until Anthony's arms were pulled taught overhead. 

A shorter silk scarf in deep black was looped over the demon's eyes.

"I also blocked his hearing on our actual moving day but I don't have to do that tonight," Zira told Aziraphale, gesturing to a pair of cheap looking headphones that even Aziraphale knew had to be from the nineties. Enchanted like all the rest of the toys, no doubt.

"Pffft, you can if you want," Anthony challenged. "I'm fine with it. Agreed to Moving Day, din'I? Can't start changing the bits around or we'll never know what parts of what —"

Anthony's whinging cut off as Zira harrumphed and shoved the headphones on over his ears. The demon froze and Aziraphale wondered what it would be like for him, tied up and suddenly blind and deaf. He looked back over at Crowley and wasn't surprised to see his golden eyes wide in what must have been a very strange case of sympathetic trepidation.

Zira lifted one foam pad off the demon's ear and asked "still green, _Anthony_?" The demon scowled, his sharp teeth looking even whiter under the black sash over his eyes.

"Don't you bloody start with that horseshit, Angel, I swear to— _Eeep_! Green! Yep! S'all good!" Aziraphale chuckled at the abrupt change in Anthony's tone as Zira began to trail his fingertips lightly up and down the flat belly. Aziraphale noticed that one of Zira's hands seemed to always rest, reassuringly on the demon's shoulder, 

"What about you, Red?" Zira asked Crowley.

" _Crowley_ ," Crowley corrected with an insolent grin. Both principalities rolled their eyes, then Zira summoned up an extra long ostrich feather. He handed the snowy plume to Aziraphale and summoned an identical one which he used to trail up and down Anthony's spine. 

Aziraphale caught the angel's meaningful glance and hurried over to Crowley with his feather. The redhead smirked at him and gave a tiny incredulous snort.

"I assume the whole sensory deprivation bit is s'posed to make the touch better?" Crowley drawled, tilting his angular chin towards Anthony, pretending to be disinterested and cool. Aziraphale might have been more annoyed if the demon were doing a better job of it. There was a distinct blush over the tops of his pale cheeks and there was no hiding his erection no matter how the demon snorted and smirked.

"It does," Zira answered. "But I wouldn't recommend you do this yet, Red. And I _know_ you'll take that as a challenge, but honestly please don't."

"We won't," Aziraphale assured his counterpart. 

"We _could_ ," Crowley shrugged. "I don't care."

"Let's just see if our demons have the same sensitive spots for now, shall we?" Zira's clipped tone was for Crowley's benefit and the demon _did_ demure with a somewhat nervous gulp. Aziraphale was quite interested in this subject and readied his feather, listening attentively.

Because Lord knows Crowley probably wouldn't volunteer the information, even knowing Aziraphale would only ever use it to bring him pleasure. Always so secretive, his demon. Always defensive of his weaknesses, real or perceived, sensitive skin, or notes from Hell…

"Let's begin with the inside of the arm," Zira suggested and Crowley actually whimpered. Both angel's glanced at the redhead who lamely tried to pass the sound off as a cough. _Oh yes,_ Aziraphale thought with a smile. _This will be very interesting indeed._

*************

Crowley eyed the bloody feather and licked his lips. He snuck a long breath through his nose, trying to control his breathing, trying to control the rest of him while he was at it. He flicked his eyes over to Anthony, still standing so patiently, blindfolded and deafened. _Idiot._ What in the Nine was he playing at? Always had to show him up. Bastard.

Zira touched the soft fluffy feather to his husband's bound wrists and Anthony startled slightly at the sensation, then shivered as the angel slowly drew the plume down the inside of his extended arm. Crowley bit his lip as the feather passed over the elbow and Anthony twitched, his breath catching ever so slightly. Zira smiled adoringly and made the pass again.

"May I try, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked him, holding the ridiculous white feather like a sword. Crowley considered a few different flippant remarks but there was nothing to be gained from them. Might as well take whatever control he could. He made himself look his angel in the eye and nod.

"Inside of the elbow the bessst part," he offered, cringing at the unintentional hiss. "Most intense there."

"I'm happy you're being open with me, darling, but I believe you're only meant to say yes or no."

"Don't remember being told that," Crowley scoffed, embarrassed. "Whatever. Yes then. Use your silly feather then. Stupid looking thing. You both look like utter prats."

Good. Yes. Definitely coming across as calm and in control. _Idiot._

Aziraphale flushed and snuck a glance at Zira. Zira merely arched a blond eyebrow at Crowley and shrugged, surrendering the demon to Aziraphale. That should have made Crowley feel _more_ in control, right? So why didn’t it? His angel was giving him his _tired-of-your-shit_ look now and Crowley bit his lip and tried to look cute.

"I want to make you feel good, Crowley," Aziraphale told him, the icy chill creeping into his voice the way it did when Crowley was on very thin ice. He'd embarrassed him. Aziraphale accepted a lot of snide comments from Crowley but he didn't like being embarrassed.

The angel leaned over the arm of the chair to whisper in his ear. "Novice that I am, I'm more comfortable offering you the carrot rather than the stick," he murmured, the feather drifting slowly up his forearm. Crowley jumped at the sensation. It was far softer than he expected, and wider too, lighting up his touch starved skin. It felt like a multitude of whispering kisses across his skin and his spine bowed back as every nerve from his ears to his toes suddenly went on high alert at once.

"If you can try to be good for me, then I will return the favour when I get you alone," Aziraphale continued, letting the feather sweep under his elbow and up his bicep as Crowley quivered like a bow string and an involuntary “Nnnnnn” hummed out of his throat. “I’ll stretch you out on the bed and kiss every inch you. Depending on your mood, I could gently stroke you until you fall asleep, or I could wring you out like sopping cloth, Crowley. You have no idea the things I could do to you if you let me. If you could just _try_ for me, darling. Please?” 

Crowley tilted his head back and moaned. "Promise I'll get the carrot?" he whined, shivering as the feather reversed its journey.

" _I_ _f_ you're good," Aziraphale chuckled. "Can you be good for me, my love?"

_My love!_ Fuck! Crowley groaned, clenching his teeth around the intense throb of arousal, and vigorously nodded his head. He'd try. He’d do anything to get him to say _that_ again.

"Yes and no answers from now on," Aziraphale told him, sounding rather firm on the point. "And no growling."

“Pffft,” Crowley answered, because he couldn’t leave a loophole unexploited. Aziraphale returned his wry smirk and stroked the feather under Crowley’s chin and down his throat. 

Crowley’s tenuous control over his breathing yote itself into the abyss and he was panting by the time the ridiculous feather traced over his sternum. He hated how quickly he became overwhelmed by sensation. He’d never had to deal with this shit before (which was probably the problem, but did give him the illusion of control, which was nice) and this was just so fucking… weird!

The feather continued its terribly slow descent between his ribs, the delicate fluffy touches whispering ‘ _promises promises’_ and Crowley moaned so loudly he startled himself. He opened his eyes, and saw Zira passing his feather up Anthony’s inner thigh while the brunette gasped out a string of foul language (obviously _he_ was allowed to speak... but maybe that was a tradeoff for _not being able to see or hear?_ Had he mentioned this was _fucking weird?_ ) And Aziraphale! His timid, innocent angel was standing in front of him with a sexy grin, dragging that feather lower by the second and…

“This is weird!” Crowley choked, inches from panic. The feather lifted at once and Aziraphale was at his side, gently stroking his hair and pressing kisses to his forehead and that wasn’t _less_ weird but it did feel nice.

“Do you need to stop?” the angel asked?

“Do you want to be released?” the other angel asked, stopping his own feathery assault on his husband and watching Crowley with loving concern.

“So fucking _weird…_ ” Crowley whispered, shaking his head. “M’sorry Angel. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“What are you talking about, darling?” Aziraphale cooed. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

This was just patently false. He was a demon. He’d done _plenty_ wrong and, _okay, that’s besides the point,..._

“Is this really wot you want?” Crowley asked him, feeling miserable. “Don’t get me wrong, it's _aaamaaaaziiiing_ , but… I’ve had to use a boat-load of wiles on you in the past to get you to do _anything_ your stuffy librarian brain suggested might be ‘improper’ and now you’re… using _that_!” he squawked, glaring at the evil feather.

“I’m sure you’re very wily, my dear Serpent,” Aziraphale chuckled. “But I’m sorry to tell you that you have _never_ tempted me into something I didn’t want to do in the end.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Angel,” Crowley deadpanned. “That’s how temptations work, you twit. Fact is, you were bloody terrified of doing the wrong thing, and now you’re in an alternate dimension learning how to sexually dominate a _demon_ after fucking your alternate persona’s husband!”

“Well, if you put it that way —and I’d really prefer you _not_ do so again— it is a _tad_ out of character, I suppose,” Aziraphale admitted, blushing furiously. “But I don’t see how it’s your fault.”

“I think it is _my_ Crowley’s fault, technically,” Zira suggested helpfully while dragging the feather around Anthony’s bollocks until the demon keened.

“But I put you on this path, din’I?” Crowley grumbled, trying desperately not to pay attention to the other two. “I convinced you to go against Heaven and choose the world. I cost you your job and now you’re here in this _weird_ cottage with these _weird_ people doing _weird_ stuff. Are you sure it's okay?”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale laughed. “Darling, I have Heaven and their mulish archangels off my back, and I have _you_ naked and tied to a chair. I assure you I am more than ‘okay’.”

“Yeah?” Crowley wheezed in relief. “I don't want you to regret any of this.”

“Regret!” Aziraphale made a soft noise that could have been distress or sympathy but he was kissing Crowley deeply before the demon had a chance to puzzle out which. Crowley relaxed against the angel’s lips immediately, drawing in a slow breath through his nose as Aziraphale tilted his head back with a firm hand on his jaw.

“That isn’t even a remote possibility, Crowley, I assure you,” Aziraphale whispered in his ear before giving the lobe a playful nip. Crowley groaned, his weeping erection twitching at the sudden introduction of teeth into all this. The angel straightened up, retrieving the enormous feather from where he had dropped it. “Now, if you’re quite done with this little crisis, I’d like to get back to discovering which areas cause you to make the best noises.” And he did, sliding the feather across his midsection and down around his hip and the side of his arse. 

“Unfff... fffuck, you’re such a bastard, Angel. I love it,” Crowley moaned, letting his head fall back again.

“I know you do, dear,” Aziraphale told him fondly and dragged the feather up his leg. Crowley was sure he made all sorts of noises for the angel’s bastardly pleasure as his pulse thundered in his ears and his eyes rolled back. When the feather coasted its softness over his bollocks and along the base of his heavy cock, Crowley cursed loudly (in Polish?) and came embarrassingly hard.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale sighed. “I’m afraid you’ve ruined my feather.”

“Careless of you to have put it there,” Crowley retorted weakly smiling at the angel’s amused snort. He pried his eyes open and gazed blearily up at his angel. Aziraphale kissed him again, hard but sweet and he let his eyes drift closed again, still afloat in the afterglow. The angel began to untie his wrist (always the human way with this git) and Crowley told him to stop. The demonstration was still going and they were going to learn, and Crowley was going to try to be good and then Crowley was going to get his carrot. Aziraphale kissed him again and the demon shivered as angelic magic coated the skin on his wrists, healing his rope burn. This was really bloody weird. But it was really _really_ good.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scene continues in the next chapter.


	19. Bad Demon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira's demonstration ends... unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I have a twitter now!](https://twitter.com/TheaSutton4)
> 
> Follow me for updates about my updates.

  
  


"You're a fucking monster, you son of a rabid cur! I should rip your throat out with my teeth!"

It took Crowley a while to parse the tirade, not immediately recognizing the language. Catching the jist, he flicked his gaze to Zira as the angel silenced his husband's profanity-laden rant by clapping a palm over his lips. Anthony continued to finish his sentence regardless, muffled behind Zira's palm.

The principality lifted the headphones off Anthony's head. "I hope you didn't think I'd be confused by a mixture of old Russian and Sumerian, Crowley dear."

Crowley held his breath, still unused to his name being used to address Anthony and thinking _he_ was in trouble for a moment.

Zira discarded the headphones as Anthony whined. 

"Colour," Zira demanded.

"Green!" Anthony snapped, also in Russian. He was panting and glistening with sweat. Zira chuckled and withdrew the vibrator he'd been tormenting Anthony with for the last fifteen minutes. 

"This is what I've been telling you about stubbornness," Zira stated calmly, and Crowley wasn't sure if he was speaking to Anthony or to them. 

Crowley was still tied to the throne, frustratingly hard and deeply conflicted, (the metronome ticked between irritated and fascinated so quickly it would have sounded like rapid fire.) Aziraphale was perched on the edge of the sofa. They both watched the scene in a detached way as if to convince themselves they weren't simply voyeurs. 

"Are you quite sure you want to continue or would you like to try something else?" Zira asked Anthony, nibbling a spot on his jaw just below the blindfold. Anthony groaned, a long low sound that echoed in Crowley’s throat too. 

Zira had asked Anthony to hold out and let him come first, something that might have been a reasonable request if Zira weren’t still fully clothed forty minutes later, edging the raven-haired demon with a vibrator while Anthony twisted, dangling from his wrists. 

His butterscotch skin was shining with sweat and his hard long prick was nearly purple and dripping continuously. It didn’t look at all comfortable and Crowley had no idea why it was making his mouth water.

“Just safeword out, you bloody idiot,” Crowley snarled. “Wot are you tryin’ to prove?”

“Green!” Anthony snapped back, plastering a bastardly smirk on his face. “Woss the matter, Red? This too hot for you? Maybe _you_ need to safeword out.”

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at Crowley with a warm little smile. “You could, darling,” he offered. “If you wanted a break.”

“I don’t need a break,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m just bored. Been tied up here looking at the same bit of porn for the last 15 minutes. Get to the money shot already and move on. Honestly, I don’t know where you angels get off calling _us_ stubborn when you're the most pigheaded entities in the universes.”

“S’true,” Anthony snickered. “I love you, sweetheart, but you’re easily ten times more stubborn than I am.”

“Really…” Zira smirked. “Are you and I remembering the same history, darling?” he stroked his fingers lower as Anthony gasped and twitched. The angel’s other hand disappeared behind the demon’s pelvis a moment before Anthony cried out in tortured pleasure, thrusting his hips back so hard it unbalanced him, causing him to swing painfully from his wrists for a moment. Zira steadied him with an arm around his waist, setting him back on his feet.

“Still green love?” Zira smirked, working his fingers in and out of the trembling demon. Crowley could see the tendons shifting in the angel’s forearm as he worked his idiot husband back up to the brink.

“Ugh, this is going to take forever,” Crowley muttered glumly.

“Perhaps it’s time to toss a spanner in the works,” Aziraphale suggested quietly. Crowley arched an eyebrow at his angel. He wasn’t expecting Aziraphale to agree with him, let alone suggest sabotaging his counterpart’s demonstration of control.

“Might be…” Crowley murmured, “but _I_ certainly couldn’t, right? I’m meant to be being ‘good’. Wouldn’t want to risk losing that carrot you offered.”

“I believe you’re meant to be taking your cues from _me,_ ” Aziraphale whispered. “Not _him,_ ” he indicated Zira with his chin. The other principality was sucking a bruise into the side of Anthony’s neck, still finger-fucking away while his husband struggled to hold himself back.

“Do you _want_ me to be a spanner, Angel?” Crowley asked sweetly. _Oh please please please!_

Aziraphale watched Anthony suck his lip between his teeth and bite firmly. A small trickle of blood oozed down his chin. Aziraphale’s eyes softened in concern for a moment. He had surprised Crowley with how much he was willing to do, how far he was willing to go, but _this_ was nudging up against his limit now. Crowley tried to keep himself from vibrating with excitement. It was going to happen! Azirpahale was going to unleash him to sow chaos!

“Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured, turning back to him slowly, his eyes dark with bastardry. 

“Yesssss Angel?” Crowley purred.

“Be a dear and go fuck things up for me,” Aziraphale whispered, planting a soft kiss against his lips. 

“Hrrk,” ( _Aziraphale swearing_!) “Anything for you, Angel,” he groaned before slipping into serpent form and easing out of the chair. Aziraphale turned back to watch the others while Crowley silently slithered around the sofa, inching closer and closer to the other pair. Anthony was beside himself with pleasure, blindfolded and helpless. 

Zira was the danger, but he had his hands full and his face tucked into Anthony’s sensitive neck. Neither of them saw the snake coming. Crowley flicked his tongue, tasting the heaviness of lust in the air, the smokey saltiness of Anthony’s leaking cock bobbing purple and neglected over his head as he slithered past a tan ankle.

Crowley switched back to his human form, kneeling before the other demon and immediately slid that swollen cock down to the back of his throat.

“Ah! _AHH!_ Wot the _FFFF_ !” Anthony cried, thrusting into his mouth. To Anthony’s credit, he didn’t come _immediately_. The surprise must have brought him back from the brink somewhat. 

Crowley eased off, wrapping one hand around the base of the demon’s throbbing cock while lightly sucking the rest. He glanced up at Zira and saw the angel giving him an angry look. Crowley grinned around his husband’s effort and winked before plunging forward again and sucking Anthony down hard. 

The demon groaned, swore, shook terribly and then came with a shout of defeat, pulsing down Crowley’s throat as he swallowed around the spasming cock, nursing out the orgasm and nearly bringing himself to his own completion. 

He’d been hard this whole time, and then having Aziraphale send him on this mission, the _swearing_ , the sounds and flavour of orgasm. The danger of being this close to a principality who was definitely quite annoyed with him… Ffffuck it was all so infernally hot! He considered bringing himself off the rest of the way with his hand, but he wasn’t sure Aziraphale would want that.

He could wait. It would be painful, but he could wait. He wanted that carrot.

“Sssshhhiiiiit,” Anthony moaned, sagging down as far as his bound wrists would allow. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chided behind him. “Bad demon. Come here this instant.”

Crowley rose on unsteady feet, keeping himself out of arms reach of Zira before he shot a quick confused look at his angel. He was just (gleefully) doing what he was told.

And also… _Bad demon?_ _Really?_

Aziraphale hurried over and grabbed Crowley's arm, pulling him along as the angel continued to scold him. “Terribly sorry," he tossed back over his shoulder to Zira. "Obviously I need to sort this one out a bit one on one."

Crowley snorted and let himself be pulled along. He glanced at the other two as Zira was holding Anthony up, unhooking his wrists from the doorframe. Zira's expression firmly implied he wasn't buying it, but Aziraphale tugged Crowley up the stairs before the other principality could complain.

Crowley bit back a laugh as the angel eagerly manhandled him into the guestroom and shut the door. The _previously-supposed_ stuffy bookseller managed to get in an impressive amount of groping between the staircase and the bed! 

He grinned at the blonde, heart hammering away in his throat as Aziraphale playfully shoved him onto the mattress and crawled over to lie beside him.

"Please take your kit off," Crowley asked. "I know Zira stays buttoned up and controlled but I'd like to see—" he cut off with a smile as Aziraphale snapped and sent his outfit to the closet.

"We're still discovering each other," Aziraphale agreed. "The bondage and control games are fun, but that's all they are at the moment. Games."

"Think it might be more for them," Crowley shrugged, still not sure exactly how to feel about that.

"Who knows what we'll be up to in another few hundred years, let alone _thousands_. I don't think we need to jump ahead of ourselves to get there though," Aziraphale slowly traced a finger along Crowley's chest, slowly circling a pert nipple. "I'd hate to miss even a moment of this."

"Yup… very wise," Crowley groaned, melting into the touch. 

"Do you like this?" Aziraphale asked, continuing to draw his finger lightly across Crowley's freckled skin. Crowley nodded emphatically, not trusting his tongue at the moment. "You're so sensitive, my dear. I had no idea,"

"Mmmm... _haaah…_ me neither honestly," Crowley sighed, giving in to the sensation. "Anthony called it being ‘touch starved’… never had anyone want to… _oh! Angel, there!_ " he twitched and gasped as Aziraphale traced a fingertip along the sharp jut of his hip. His cock filled again immediately and he moaned embarrassingly as Aziraphale did it again and again.

"You poor dear," Aziraphale cooed. He rolled over on his back dragging Crowley on top of him. Crowley stared down at him in surprise until his eyes rolled back with a pleasant shudder as the angel began drawing his fingers over his back.

" _I_ want to touch you, Crowley," Aziraphale told him, thrusting up against the demon, sliding their cocks together and making Crowley moan. Not being a complete idiot, Crowley got the hint and moved, rutting against the angel desperately as Aziraphale drew letters and symbols on his back.

"You deserve to be touched, my love," Aziraphale gasped, moaning with the demon now. They were both so pent up, this wasn't going to last, so Crowley let himself go as fast as he wanted, kissing his angel furiously as he bucked and groaned and rubbed them off until— 

"Angel I lov— _ah! hrrk… Ah!AH!_ " Crowley came with a yelp, spilling hot between them, fucking his own spend against the angel's hips. Aziraphale groaned, close but not quite there. Crowley wouldn't leave him like that _again_. He slithered down, ignoring the angel's cry of disappointment, and licked his own mess off the angel's alabaster skin.

Aziraphale bounced his hips off the mattress, arching his back as Crowley swept his thick tongue under his navel, gathering the last of his spend when he felt the angel stroke a hand through his hair. He hissed as Aziraphale gripped his red hair in his fist and then groaned happily at the tug-and-pull as the angel guided his head lower.

Aziraphale rolled them onto their side, curling himself around Crowley's shoulders as the demon swallowed him. Crowley hummed happily as Aziraphale slowly fucked his mouth until he too came with a faint whimper and Crowley drank it down eagerly, taking everything and anything Aziraphale would give.

" _Ooooh_ Oh, darling I…" Aziraphale sighed pleasantly. Crowley rested his cheek against a creamy thigh and gazed up at his angel. "I hadn't meant to have you… entirely too tempting... you... _serpent_."

Crowley liked this. Aziraphale unable to complete a sentence. He was used to accomplishing this through the usual flustering method but _this_ was good too.

"Get up here, fiend" Aziraphale crooked his finger at him. "I absolutely must kiss every inch of you immediately."

Crowley shrugged, unable to argue with that and bounced back up the bed, grinning until Aziraphale rolled him onto his back and kissed the grin right off him.

" _Hnngg_ ," Crowley grunted as the angel laved his tongue under his ear. "I've gotta ask… where did you learn all this stuff…?"

"Hmm?" Aziraphale hummed, feigning innocence while doing some impressively diabolical things with his tongue against Crowley's throat.

"Still reeling that any of this is happening," Crowley sighed. "But you're far more comfortable with all this than I figured you to be and — _oh!_ — may I say ... _talented_."

"Dear Crowley mine," Aziraphale chuckled, inching down to kiss the hollow of his throat. "Did you imagine, after all this time, that I was a virgin?"

"Umm…" Logically that seemed likely that Aziraphale would have at least tried sex before, considering his willingness to indulge in every other earthly pleasure but…

"Yes," Crowley chuckled at himself. "I guess I did."

"Oh," Aziraphale smirked at him before lightly biting his collarbone and making the demon writhe. "I was a _very_ good friend of Oscar Wilde, and de Sade before that…" he bit down again just over Crowley's wildly beating heart and Crowley gasped a strangled expletive. "I'd say I've done my job to the best of my ability, and _yours too_ on occasion, but I spent my off years with artists…" he bit again over a rib. "And actors…" he swept the tip of his tongue across Crowley's nipple before blowing cool air over the hardened nub. "And authors and..." he dragged his teeth down Crowley's sternum and the demon keened.

"Got it!" Crowley cried. "You've fucked your way throughout history! I'll never suggest you're virginal again, I'm sorry!"

Aziraphale laughed at him, resting on his side once more to resume his idle finger tracing across Crowley's chest. 

"I'm not sure why you're surprised," he smiled fondly. "I'd imagine it must have been the same for you."

"Never actually met Wilde," Crowley deflected. "Wos out of the country on assignment."

This was a spectacular lie but it sounded better than _'I was sleeping off a multi-decade sulk because you were mean to me.'_

"I wasn't talking about Wilde specifically, twit," Aziraphale swatted at him. "But maybe I shouldn't assume you were up to all manner of depravity simply because you're a demon any more than you should have figured I _wasn't_ on account of being an angel."

"Meh," Crowley shrugged. 

"You _weren't_?!" Aziraphale gasped, betraying what he’d just said. Crowley hissed and rolled away from the angel. "Crowley? Have you honestly never— "

"Don't be stupid," Crowley snapped. "I'm a bloody temptation demon. 'Course I've had sex, you berk."

"Then…?" Aziraphale prodded. Crowley glared at the blanket. 

"Just drop it, Angel," he muttered. "S'gonna ruin the mood."

"Was it work?" Aziraphale asked and Crowley tensed, feeling a spark of panic ignite in the pit of his stomach. "They sent you to tempt people. I assume now some of those would be seductions..." Aziraphale continued, quietly peeling up a long forgotten scab on Crowley's battered soul. "I never considered that you might not have wanted—"

"Minor demons don't get to choose their assignments, Angel," he snapped. "Took a long time to earn enough commendations to get out of that line of work."

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale whispered.

"Ugh," Crowley rolled his eyes. "Told you it would ruin the mood. Look, s'nothing, all right? Long time ago. Lots happened since then. Don't need to fuss over it."

A warm kiss landed between his shoulder blades and Crowley relaxed a little. Aziraphale pulled his shoulder and drew him back until Crowley reluctantly looked at him. 

"Nothing is ruined, Crowley," Aziraphale told him. "I'm glad you told me. You shouldn't feel like you need to protect me from the truth of what you've been through. I want to know _all_ of you."

Crowley kissed the angel enthusiastically, out of desire as much as out of desire to shut him up. He thought Crowley was trying to protect _him?!_ Crowley was trying to protect _himself_!

Aziraphale sucked lightly at his tongue, hands in his hair pulling Crowley closer. He moaned into Aziraphale's mouth, his needy cock stirring again after its brief reprieve. Aziraphale's hands were everywhere, artless but enthusiastic, pinching and stroking and squeezing as Crowley writhed under him.

"I want us to be honest with each other," the angel was saying. "Don't hold anything back. I'm stronger than you think I am, Crowley. I can be strong enough to protect us both."

What was the daffy git going on about. They were perfectly safe here, weren’t they? Protect them from whom? The Husbands? Because A) _Too Bloody Late!_ And also, B) _Why Would anyone want to?_

"S'nice Angel," Crowley patted his shoulder and thrust up against him to remind him of what was important. Aziraphale groaned and reached between them, grasping both their cocks with a firm grip. Crowley rolled his hips again, thrusting against Aziraphale's palm and silky erection and it felt _incredible_. This was what mattered right now. Nothing else. Just him, Aziraphale and the heat growing between them.

" _Fuck_ , Angel, _fff_ … feels so good," he moaned, fucking the angel's fist harder. "Can't get enough. Think I could—”

“ _OOoooh_ Crowley!” Aziraphale moaned, canting his hips now as well. Crowley rested his head back on the bed, giving himself over to the bliss once more, this perfect moment.

“Tsss,” A caustic voice hissed from the floor beside the bed. Crowley had barely processed the sound through his pleasure addled brain when a great black snake slithered up the headboard and suddenly Anthony struck out, landing heavily between them (and breaking the hold Aziraphale had on their efforts).

“S’up, you cuntsss!?” Anthony hissed, changing back to human form to show off his best sneer.

“Wot the Heaven are you doing!?” Crowley snarled.

“Uh… revenge?” Anthony smirked, settling cross legged on the bed and straightening his tie. “You thought I was jus’ gonna let that shit you pulled downstairs _go_? Nah. S'Not my style.”

“You should be thanking me,” Crowley snapped. “Did you a favour, didn’t I?”

“Pffft, hardly,” Anthony glared. “Been trying’ to get my angel to believe I mean ‘green’ when I bloody _say_ it for months. Thought I was getting somewhere and then you… You just…”

Anthony reddened slightly under his glasses and Crowley smirked at him, making the blushing worse. “You ruined it, s'what you did. You sodding twats!”

“Fuck off,” Crowley laughed. “We’re in the middle of something here, Anthony, so unless you wanna ret—”

“Stop calling me Anthony! I swear to Satan, if you call me that one more time I’ll— _Shit!_ _Shit shit shit_ ,” Anthony’s threat died tragically at Aziraphale’s hands as he ran them through Anthony’s black hair before yanking the demon’s head back against his chest.

“Anthony?”

“S’not my name!” Anthony snapped, then frowned. “Well, it _IS_ my name but no one actually… Sod it. Wot! Wot d’ya want?”

“If you want to stay in our bed, I’m going to have to insist you remove your suit, dear,” Aziraphale told him before nibbling the lobe of Anthony’s ear. Both Crowleys jaws dropped.

“Angel?” Crowley arched his brow, completely unsure where Aziraphale was going with this, but enjoying how flustered Anthony seemed to be. Honestly, considering how often the redhead had been propositioned since being brought into this weirdo universe, _this_ felt refreshing and somehow _just_ . And Crowley so rarely felt _justice_ , let alone in his favour.

“Angel’s got a point,” he purred, removing Anthony’s glasses to reveal the wide pale yellow eyes. “ _Turn_ _about_ and all that.”

Anthony cleared his throat, his hair still caught in the ball of Aziraphale’s fist, and licked his lips. “Oh ho ho ho, Okay. I see how it is…” he snarked. “You’re a team now are you? Oh bravo. S’not like that isn’t the _exact fucking thing I’ve been trying to achieve since I met you, shit heads!_ ”

“Congratulations,” Crowley patted Anthony’s head like a puppy, grinning at the hiss and the attempted bite. “We’re a team all right. About to double team your sloppy arse until you howl.”

“Pfft,” Anthony rolled his eyes, but the flush across his cheeks darkened. He shifted under Aziraphale’s grip, drawing his knees together. He tried to look casual, but there was no fooling _another_ Crowley into thinking he wasn't hiding an erection.

“Threatening me with a good time?” he snorted. "Plonkers. As if I'd be—"

“Lose the suit, dear, or leave us be,” Aziraphale told the demon before releasing him. 

Crowley watched as Anthony seemed to weigh his options, and wasn’t surprised when the demon shrugged and his suit fell off him like grains of sand. Aziraphale tugged the brunette’s hips up at once, surprising him as Anthony was tipped forward into Crowley’s lap.

“Considering your wealth of experience, I’m sure you can figure out what to do,” Aziraphale told Anthony a moment before pulling the demon’s hips higher and licking a thick trail from bullocks to hole and causing both demons to moan. Crowley was spellbound, watching his angel work open Anthony’s already amply prepared arse. It hardly seemed necessary after the demonstration they’d both witnessed, but it was certainly erotic. 

His erection had begun to flag after the rude surprise but it was on its way to full mast now even before Anthony wrapped his hand around it and guided it into his mouth. 

  
  


“Shit!” Crowley gasped. Aziraphale looked up at his exclamation and smiled. The angel repositioned himself high on his knees, working miracle-slicked fingers into Anthony as the brunette moaned around Crowley’s swelling prick. Crowley couldn’t imagine how this could feel better but he knew it was about to.

“Fuck him, Angel,” he rasped. “Fuck him hard enough I can feel it.”

Anthony moaned again, humming a muffled affirmative with his busy mouth. Aziraphale didn’t keep them waiting. Anthony settled on his knees and elbows barely in time to receive the first thrust. Aziraphale buried himself in the demon with a savage grunt taking both Crowleys by surprise.

"Jesus Angel," Crowley groaned.

"You like it," Aziraphale said, and it didn't sound like a question. Crowley was panting now, watching his angel _use_ his universal alternate for his pleasure. It _wasn't_ a question but he nodded anyway. He did like it. Judging by the mewling sounds being made around his cock, Anthony was _loving_ it.

"I've been told the easiest way to please you is to _take,"_ he snapped his hips, "what I _want_."

"Yesss," Crowley hissed between moans. "Anything you want, Angel."

"Mmf hmf," Anthony agreed. He slurped up Crowley's prick, popping off to gasp some air and moan unimpeded, his brow pressed against Crowley's thigh. "As much and as often as you like."

" _Unf!_ We'll discuss _that_ later," Aziraphale vowed, clearly not wanting to unpack the potentially transgressive nature of Anthony's assurance at this particular moment, while still noting it to fret over later because, _Aziraphale_. Crowley was both annoyed and fond.

Anthony groaned and began licking Crowley's erection like a lolly, wrapping his tongue under the frenulum before taking the head back into his mouth. Crowley whined as he watched the demon work, and cried out when Aziraphale gave a strong thrust that forced Anthony to bob up on Crowley's cock.

" _Nygh_!" Crowley threw his head back, shutting out the sight for a moment. The suck job was imperfect and clumsy, but knowing it was Aziraphale moving Anthony along his prick made it all so much hotter. He was sure he'd have come by now if it weren't for the way his mind had been racing ever since the other demon popped up. 

Seeing Anthony reminded Crowley of the little slip up Zira had made earlier concerning taking away Anthony's control. Then the demon provided _another_ juicy tidbit suggesting Zira’s distrust of Anthony’s willingness to use the safe word. These uncomfortable moments didn't bother Crowley, it wasn't _upsetting_. Just… chewy. 

He'd picked up on those little hints of trauma and badly wanted to know more. He wanted to widen the hairline cracks in this otherwise perfect husbandly image, not to glut on the wound of it, but to see something more familiar to his own experience. 

Maybe he was a bastard for feeling this way, but he wanted to know that Zira and Anthony fought. He wanted to know that they had suffered, even after they jerked each other off in ancient Rome. He wanted to know that this one act of coming together (ha!) didn’t magically solve everything between them. 

He wanted to believe that his own pain wasn’t just some mistake. That it wasn’t his fault.

(Some of it was his fault, obviously ( _OBVIOUSLY)_ But not all of it, right?)

He needed Anthony to have hurt like _he’d_ hurt. It didn’t have to be as bad, or for as long, but he needed to know that the trouble with being a demon spanned universes and timelines and that Anthony’s optimism and self-acceptance had come _despite_ all the weird and painful demonic bullshit. That the other demon had been able to rise above it. That someday Crowley could too.

He looked down the length of his body to where Anthony was being pushed up on Crowley’s cock by Aziraphale’s forceful thrusts and saw the pale yellow eyes unfocused and half closed, glazed with pleasure. He thought about grabbing his ebon hair and pulling sharply the way he had days ago when Anthony had first sucked him down, but he touched him softly instead. 

He kept his hands featherlight as he traced the stretched skin around Anthony’s mouth, trailing in the wetness that leaked from his bottom lip. He moaned along with the demon when Aziraphale shifted slightly and drove back in. He liked that. Crowley liked that he liked it.

"I wondered where you had gotten to," Zira muttered from the doorway. 

" _Hrk_!" Anthony said, muffled around Crowley's cock. 

All that fantastic fucking took a sudden awkward pause while the husbands looked at each other, both assessing how badly Anthony may have overstepped here. Zira wore a thoughtful little frown and Anthony’s arched brow barely belied the trepidation in his pale yellow eyes. The husbands and their mutual self-confidence appeared not to be immune to the feelings of insecurity or possessiveness this weirdness brought out in Crowley and Aziraphale and that was something Crowley understood and silently appreciated.

"There's room for one more," Crowley offered, patting the bed beside Anthony. Anthony and Aziraphale nodded emphatically. Zira gave a little sigh of relief before joining them. He miracled his kit away and stretched out beside his husband worming his way under him so he could suckle at Anthony's neglected cock.

Not wanting Zira to go without, Crowley traced his fingers over the principality's hip, thrilling when Zira took his wrist and dragged it to his erection. Crowley wrapped his fingers around it and stroked lightly, miracling his palm slick. He kept his grip firm, his strokes slow. He _intended_ to make it as good for the principality as a hand job could be in this pile of bodies but then he looked up and—

Aziraphale was watching him. His eyes were fixed on Crowley's, dark with desire and suddenly Crowley couldn't look away. His hand stilled on Zira's erection, he ceased the gentle thrusts into Anthony's hungry mouth. All he could do was stare back at his angel, mesmerized by the heat in those dark blue eyes.

That heat! Scalding! Blistering! But something else behind it too. Crowley swallowed reflexively, recognizing it as holy… except no, not just that either. He'd seen Aziraphale go all capital ‘ _H’_ Holy before, swinging a flaming sword and everything but _this_ was warm and inviti— _OhSatanThatsHisLove!_

"Angel," he panted, basking in the heat of the angel’s gaze. Aziraphale nodded as though he knew Crowley could see it now. Crowley could! For a moment Aziraphale's love was _all_ he could see. Everything else fell away and the pleasure swirling around him was an echo of that warmth in Aziraphale's eyes.

Then the angel smiled and snapped his hips hard, driving into Anthony, and driving Anthony into Crowley. Both demons made a sound of surprise. Aziraphale did it again and Anthony made a desperate sound low in his throat. The vibration shook through Crowley's cock a moment before the darker demon sucked him back down forcefully.

Crowley heard himself keen and moan but couldn't tear his eyes away from Aziraphale. Every punishing thrust seemed to be aimed at him, and— _fuck!_ — if that wasn't almost as hot as the real thing.

_(Almost.)_

_Soon,_ Aziraphale seemed to say. _We have all the time in the world_.

Another snap, another strong nudge along the chain that linked them and Anthony growled this time, a weak warning. He gasped, popping off Crowley's slick cock with a helpless mewl before Aziraphale thrust in again and Anthony _howled_.

The demon trembled violently as he came. Aziraphale fell over the edge with him, no doubt coaxed into climax as the demon clenched around him. Those dark blue eyes closed tight as hammered his way through what looked like a stellar orgasm, and Crowley was shocked by how powerful erotic that was when Anthony cried out again and _bit_ Crowley's thigh. 

Crowley was lost. There was nothing left in existence but this orgasm. It had blown the universe to atoms, or exploded his brain in this skull, which would be the same thing as far as Crowley was concerned. 

He was brought back to himself by the bitter sensation of fangs retracting from his flesh. Crowley drew a shuddering breath and looked down at Anthony, half collapsed in his lap. Crowley had shot his spend over Anthony's shoulder, coating his back in pearlescent splatter. He couldn't help but think, as Aziraphale drew the brunette upright (to keep him from smothering his husband!) that splatter would roll down the smooth curve of Anthony's back to mix with Aziraphale's release as it left the demon’s body.

That seemed as close to poetic romance as a demon was capable. Crowley almost laughed but he really didn't want to have to explain _that_ thought process.

Zira groaned, sitting up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Crowley blinked at him, confused for a moment by the sound before he looked down and remembered… _Oops._

"Sorry," Crowley blushed. "I uh… I got distracted." 

Distracted by getting punched in the face with Aziraphale's massive cosmic Love. _Wow_. He glanced up at Aziraphale, feeling almost bashful.

Aziraphale was still steadying Anthony, and still watching Crowley over the demon's wet shoulder. Crowley smiled and bit his lip against another ripple of giddiness. Aziraphale's features relaxed and he smiled back fondly which caused Crowley to grin like an idiot. What was happening?!

"Fffuck's sssake you two!" Anthony wailed. “Don’t put me between you when you’re doing _that!_ ”

Crowley blinked in surprise and saw Aziraphale do the same. Anthony was shaking, pulled upright by Aziraphale's strong arm across his chest, and _rock hard again !_

"Shit, mate," Crowley gasped. "How can you be—"

He was interrupted when Zira grabbed Anthony out of Aziraphale's grip and shoved him face first on the bed. The principality all but dove on top of his husband and fucking him hard into the bed between Crowley and Aziraphale while they sat there is mutual shock.

"Fuck!' Zira shouted into Anthony's neck as he came. Anthony's answering groan was broken and exhausted. 

"He's got to be more cum than demon at this point," Crowley whispered to Aziraphale who snorted a surprised laugh.

The weirdest thing about it all —Well, about this part, specifically— was how a not-so-small part of Crowley _envied_ Anthony. The dark haired demon was an absolute mess, completely dripping inside and out, and Crowley was infinitely curious to know what it was like to be _used_ like that. 

Anthony had clearly enjoyed every part of the process, and if he was at all mortified after the fact, he didn't _look_ it.

"Little more," Anthony whimpered, muffled by the blanket. "Almost have it… _mmf_!" 

Zira pulled Anthony onto his side and kissed him, pulling at his long cock with both hands until Anthony wheezed out a weak whine and came, shuddering and gasping. 

"What have you got, dear?" Zira murmured against Anthony's damp hair, gently cuddling his husband as they both came down from their climaxes. 

Crowley tilted his head, confused by what was happening now. He glanced at Aziraphale but the angel shrugged a shoulder and watched the other two curiously.

Anthony shivered, clearly exhausted and Crowley snapped cleaning the four of them up at the same time Aziraphale took a throw blanket and draped it over the other pair. Zira nuzzled Anthony’s cheek gently and the other demon finally opened tired topaz eyes.

“I know how to get them home.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Those Crepes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Zira have a spat, and it is Crowley and Aziraphale's turn to be supportive.
> 
> It goes about how you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience.
> 
> My childcare is gone now that we're back in lockdown and I've been struggling with this chapter, but sometimes you just have to post the thing and hope for the best.

Crowley rolled into the pillowy softness beside him, breathing in Aziraphale’s scent and smiling sleepily before he realized something was wrong. The softness was _too_ pillowy. Crowley cracked open one eye and found himself snuggling an actual pillow instead of a principality and his morning was instantly ruined!

“Annnngellll…” he whined, burrowing deeper under the duvet in his infinite distress. There was no answer. Crowley waited a whole five minutes before he decided to succumb to the sadness and die. Fortunately that was when the bedroom door opened and Aziraphale patted the blanketed lump of him gently.

“Are you awake dear? Anthony is making crepes!”

“I woke up and you were gone,” Crowley whined from his cocoon. “How could you abandon me like that?”

“Oh dear. Is this how it’s to be from now on?” he heard Aziraphale sigh. He snickered as he felt the angel settle back down on the bed. “Who would have thought the great Serpent of Eden would be so clingy.”

“I’m literally a constrictor, Angel,” Crowley growled playfully. “Ssshoulda seen this coming.”

“Hmm, I suppose,” Aziraphale murmured, poking Crowley’s form through the blanket a couple times. “I’m terribly sorry you had to wake up alone, dear. I’m afraid I don’t sleep nearly as soundly as you do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes from the safety of the covers. “I know, Angel,” he grumbled. “Of course you had better things to do than watch me sleep. Was just joking.”

“I really didn’t, as it happens,” Aziraphale told him, finally losing patience and peeling the blanket away from Crowley. Crowley blinked up at him, harrumphed, then rolled over to fetch his glasses off the bedside table. “I adore watching you sleep. You’re so lovely and soft.”

“Shaddup,” he spat, blushing furiously and hating it. Aziraphale laughed. “Admit it. The second I fell asleep you took off downstairs to play backgammon with Zira.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Aziraphale whispered conspiratorially. There was a light in his eyes that suggested he had gossip and Crowley wriggled closer. “He and Anthony were arguing for hours last night.”

“Arguing? With guests in the house? How sordid!” Crowley gasped dramatically. He knew Aziraphale’s high standards extended to manners, a fact the demon exploited for laughs whenever possible. It made sense that Zira would feel the same, which told Crowley quite a bit about this argument. It must have been serious if the angel let them be overheard.

“I know,” Aziraphale nodded, missing Crowley’s sarcasm completely. “I’m a bit concerned to be honest. I expected Anthony to be as exhausted as you, still lounging in bed. Instead he’s making crepes alone in the kitchen and Zira is still in his study.”

“What were they arguing about?” Crowley asked eagerly. Aziraphale arched a snowy brow at him and Crowley tried to look contrite.

"You do realize they're _us_ ," Aziraphale chided. "Don't you think your schadenfreude is a touch misplaced?"

"Oh sure," Crowley rolled his eyes. "Look. It's a whole _thing_ all right? Complete psychological mess, me. No point trying to understand it. Just answer the question."

"I don't know," Aziraphale huffed. "Get up and ask them yourself if you're so fascinated."

Crowley sulked for a moment before reluctantly climbing out of bed and summoning a fresh outfit.

He followed his angel down to the kitchen where Anthony just finished another crepe, flipping it onto a stack beside the stovetop. There were roughly a dozen such stacks around the kitchen.

"Morning," Anthony chirped lightly, acting like he _wasn't_ stress cooking a hundred crepes. "Hope you're hungry. I'm on a bit of a roll."

"You've lost your mind from the look of it," Crowley whistled. Aziraphale took a stack of crepes from beside the toaster and shot Crowley a silencing _look_. 

"Just waiting on Zira," Anthony snorted, heavily whisking another bit of batter before pouring some out on the pan. "He loves crepes and I want to make sure they're fresh and hot when he comes down to eat, so…" he finished with a shrug as he rolled the pan to spread the batter. Crowley frowned, a bit concerned now.

"Couldn't you… just… " Anthony looked at him curiously, citrine eyes gleaming with impatience. "Um… can't you keep them fresh with magic?" he asked, knowing he was stating the obvious and not able to see what he was missing. 

Anthony blinked slowly, then looked at the multitude of crepes he'd made. "Riiiiight…" Anthony nodded. "Could have done that…"

"Good morning," Zira announced briskly as he finally entered the kitchen, moving directly to fill the kettle. "Glad to see everyone awake. We have much to discuss."

Anthony instantly took up the nearest plate of crepes and set them down on the table, watching Zira eagerly.

"G'morning Angel," he purred. "I made your favourite. Fresh berry compote on the table too."

"I see that. Thank you," Zira responded, not looking up from the kettle. "Just tea for me this morning though. I'm afraid I'm not terribly hungry at the moment."

Anthony had turned back to the stove, and he froze mid crepe-flip to cast a wary look at his husband. Aziraphale and Crowley were also taken off guard by that statement. An Aziraphale refusing crepes was astonishing and disturbing.

"You're… not hungry," Anthony repeated, voice pitched so low it might have been a growl.

"Not at the moment, no," Zira confirmed, finally looking up from his tea. "Thank you anyway."

"Right," Anthony hissed. He took the pan off the stove and tossed it, crepe and all into the sink with a loud clang. "No problem," he snarled before storming out the kitchen door into the garden. The door obediently slammed behind him.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," Zira grumbled, reaching over to shut the stove off. "Crowley is a bit oversensitive this morning and evidently has decided to continue being beastly."

"I hope nothing is seriously the matter," Aziraphale offered politely at the same time Crowley snorted "nothing says 'beastly' like a hundred fluffy crepes."

Zira smiled tightly at them as he settled in his seat at the table. "I'm sure it will blow over. His strops usually do," he told Aziraphale before turning a stony expression on Crowley. "That said, I've been dealing with this bate for hours and have had rather enough Crowley sarcasm thank you."

Crowley laughed, loud and bitter. He'd not even been awake twenty minutes and had zero idea what was going on but he _knew_ a kitchen full of breakfast food was _not_ how a Crowley would typically _act_ _out_.

"Well," he smirked, pushing himself away from the table. "Since that's all I have to offer you, I think I'll just head off too then."

Crowley didn't slam the door as Anthony had out of difference to Aziraphale's comfort, and because if Zira was determined to pretend that Anthony was the one being shite-headed (despite evidence to the contrary) then the demon refused to give him fodder.

He looked around the garden for Anthony with no luck before deciding to try the greenhouses. His heart felt heavy and weird. He'd been itching for imperfections between the husbands but now that he was witnessing it, it was decidedly less fun than he'd hoped.

**__________**

"Shame you've no appetite," Aziraphale told his counterpart with forced levity. "These crepes are positively scrummy!"

"I know. Crowley learned the recipe from a Parisian patissier in the 18th century," Zira replied. Aziraphale gave a gasp of delight and scooped some more berry compote on his plate. Zira smiled wistfully as he continued his explanation.

"I took a _somewhat_ foolish trip to Paris during a revolution and— "

"Did you end up in the Bastille?!" Aziraphale demanded with a grin. Zira flushed slightly and nodded.

"Entirely by design, I assure you," Zira told him. "I knew Crowley had business in the area and wouldn't be able to resist coming to my aid if he sensed my distress…"

"Ah…" Aziraphale took a bite of crepe to avoid saying anything improper. The Bastille was a bit of an emotional minefield for him and he had no idea how Zira may have felt about it.

"Anyway, afterwards we went for crepes and they were as delicate and exquisite as I had hoped," Zira continued. "I must have made a fuss because Crowley stayed on in Paris and tempted the chef into teaching him how to make them. Wouldn't leave the poor man alone until he had perfected it."

"Really?" Aziraphale giggled. "So these are _those_ crepes!"

"Indeed," Zira grinned. "Of course Crowley insists to this day he only did it to make up for some other failed temptation in Paris and was merely taking his frustration out on the chef."

"Naturally," Aziraphale smirked, familiar with such excuses. "What a relief it must be for you both now that he no longer required a cover story for doing something sweet."

"Mmm," Zira's wistful smile faded. "He doesn't _require_ one no. Always has one never-the-less."

"Still?" Aziraphale frowned. "I would have thought…"

"After all this time together, married no less, that Crowley would feel free to just be kind and wonderful?" Zira's voice dripped with acid. "No. I'm afraid not."

"Oh," Aziraphale whispered. He nudged his plate away a bit, no longer hungry himself. They were quiet for a while, both embarrassed perhaps, although for different reasons.

"Did things go well for you at the Bastille?" Zira asked finally. "I hope you don't mind me asking. Only I was rather surprised we had this bit in common."

"Perfectly to plan," Aziraphale nodded. "Crowley popped in to rescue me. We had a bit of banter and were off for a nosh in due course."

Zira looked up. " _That_ was your plan? Simply to get crepes with Crowley?"

"I hadn't seen him in ages!" Aziraphale exclaimed defensively. "It was getting more than a bit lonely for me, staying put in London, and when I sensed he was so close by, I simply had to cross the channel and arrange a meeting."

"Of course," Zira nodded but Aziraphale was already brooding now. Considering all the teasing he suffered for said bloody meeting he wasn't certain the crepes nor the company had been worth the risk.

"A fine thing for you to judge, considering you've all but admitted to doing the very same thing."

"Did I?" Zira blinked. "Well, I suppose. I _did_ intend to have Crowley rescue me in the Bastille. I expected a bit more than banter and lunch, though."

"Oh?" Aziraphale asked dryly a second before registering Zira's meaning. "Oh!" He exclaimed, blushing. "Not in the _Bastille_!"

"I hadn't seen him in ages, as you said," Zira shrugged. "If I may be forgiven for changing the subject, I was wondering if you would join me at the shop today."

"The shop," Aziraphale echoed, more than happy to change the subject. "I thought you had planned to stay closed for a couple weeks."

"This would be a research trip," Zira informed him. "If you're at a point in your bonding with Crowley best served by staying together then I quite understand, however, I thought two sets of eyes might be better than one."

"What are you researching?" Aziraphale asked, feeling a stab of guilt. When asked to choose between an afternoon of potential sex or an afternoon of reading through old books and Aziraphale was honestly torn. Crowley could never know.

"There must be a way to send you and Red safely to your own world. I'm hoping some of my angelic texts hold the answer.

"You have actual angelic texts?!" Aziraphale gasped, the decision instantly made.

"Yes, and I really could use your help to parse them, let alone discuss any findings. I'm afraid it would hurt the Crowleys to look at them."

"Of course!" Aziraphale agreed excitedly. Zira smiled, looking relieved and Aziraphale's enthusiasm dampened slightly at a sudden memory of the night before. 

"Didn't I hear Anthony suggest he had a plan for getting us home?" Aziraphale asked warily. He had the sudden sense that _this_ was the source of their disagreement. Sure enough, Zira's countenance became thunderous.

"Crowley's 'plan' was ridiculous and childish," Zira rumbled. "It wasn't worth entertaining. I'm confident we'll find a logical way to get you both back where you belong."

"I understand," Aziraphale lied. "Shall we head over after lunch then?"

"If you've finished your breakfast then I propose we go now," Zira suggested tightly.

"I'd prefer to tell Crowley where we have gone," Aziraphale frowned. 

"My Crowley is aware of my plans. I'm sure he can manage to relay the message," Zira assured him. "However, you could always leave a note."

Aziraphale sighed and nodded. Considering the tension between the husbands it would definitely be best to leave a note.

**__________**

  
  


There was swearing coming from the greenhouse so Crowley approached with caution.

Anthony was at the back of the main house, shouting at the seedlings, gesticulating wildly with a trowel. Crowley grinned warily as he entered, half expecting to get a pot thrown at him. Anthony was so absorbed in his tirade that he didn't notice Crowley until he was right beside him. He paused mid-threat and glared at Crowley as if his domestic problems were _his_ fault. 

"Don't glare at _me,_ " he warned. "S'not my fault Zira's in a snit." Anthony grimaced and turned back to his plants. Crowley frowned. "Wait. Is it _my_ fault Zira's in a snit?"

"Mmmnn… not really," the other demon shrugged. "Stuff just got complicated on us."

" _Just_ got complicated?" Crowley snorted. "Stuff's been complicated since you showed up at my place in Mayfair. Doubly complicated when you pulled me _here_."

"Yeh," Anthony muttered. "Shouldn't have done that. Sorry."

Crowley flinched at that. Anthony's unshakable insistence that he'd been right to steal Crowley away had given Crowley the freedom to grouse about it. And he _liked_ to complain, but he also _had_ to admit that there was a good chance he'd have ruined his chance with Aziraphale if he'd been free to do so.

"Worked out pretty well so far," Crowley suggested. "I'm not sure wot you're apologizing for."

"Yeh, Wos right again," Anthony grumbled bitterly. "An' wot do I get for being right?"

"Well, last night it looked to me like you got thoroughly _fucked_ ," Crowley snarked, not appreciating Anthony's attitude anymore than he liked Zira's. "Wos actually curious how that felt, being ravaged at both ends like that, especially once Zira joined in and you were getting it from 3 sides. Looked like you were enjoyin' it. No idea why you're pissed at me now."

Anthony hissed at the mention of their activities the night before, and tromped off to another work surface laden with tools. Crowley hung back, keeping a safe distance since some of those tools were sharp.

"M'not pissed at _you,_ mate," Anthony muttered. "S'Not on you or your angel wots gone wrong. But m'having a Heaven of a time calming down so back off."

"Backing off," Crowley confirmed, holding his hands up and taking a physical step back as a gesture of good will.

Anthony looked slightly modified, sporting a frown instead of a full scowl. He tossed the trowel and a pair of clippers into a wicker handbasket then left the greenhouse with them. Crowley waited a beat before following the demon. He agreed to back off, but he didn't specify for how long.

**__________**

"I think these two are the most likely to have what we're looking for," Zira announced from the mezzanine, politely recapturing Aziraphale's wayward attention. In his defense it was exceedingly strange to be standing in a backwards version of his own bookshop, and he could hardly be faulted for wanting a moment to take it all in.

Determined to steal another moment for further exploration later, Aziraphale climbed the spiral staircase and joined his counterpart, unprepared for the resplendent scene spread out on the work desk.

Two glorious (literally) volumes were waiting for perusal, golden and shining. Aziraphale was in awe.

"You haven't come by these in your timeline?" Zira asked, smiling fondly at Aziraphale's expression.

"I don't believe these _ex_ ist in my timeline," Aziraphale admitted. "We have texts of course, but they're little more than scrolls and they certainly have never left Heaven! What sort of angel would have taken up book binding these texts let alone in such a cunning way?!"

Zira flushed scarlet and shifted uncomfortably. Aziraphale gawked at him. Of course he should have known exactly what sort of angel would do this.

"Well I'd think you ought to know exactly where to find what we're looking for," Aziraphale teased. "I can't see how you needed my help."

"Bookbinding wasn't even a _thing_ yet when I made these," Zira complained defensively, as though Aziraphale was anything other than impressed. "I was just going through the mess of an archive they had up there and thought _there must be a better way of presenting this information_ and then over the next century or two I sort of… made books."

"My dear, I have no idea why you look embarrassed," Aziraphale exclaimed. "These are incredible!"

"Yes, well, they _could_ have been," Zira sighed. "If I happened to have also invented indexes at the same time. Instead I made heavenly information more compact and portable which rather became a huge debacle some time later."

Aziraphale was barely listening. He'd slipped into some linen gloves and peeled up the first shimmering page, his eyes traveling across the gleaming text. It felt bittersweet to see these texts, to touch a part of Heaven again.

"How did you come to acquire them?" he asked. These books were exactly the sort of thing that ought not leave Heaven. The sheer amount of Holy energy emanating from these pages would require specially warded containment to avoid damaging any humans who might see them. Even leaving them hidden in the shop could do a number on the surrounding area, causing spontaneous miracles or slowly turning Soho into a sacred place.

One book was dangerous. Two was reckless. And Zira indicated he had _more._ "Heaven should have taken these back."

"They warded the chests I keep them in, but Michael was quite clear they would not be returned to Heaven," Zira sighed. "She was convinced they might have been weaponized in some way."

"Weaponized against Heaven?" Aziraphale gasped, baffled. "How could—"

" _Crowley_ got his hands on them," Zira huffed, annoyed, and Aziraphale felt a sudden surge of nausea. _Crowley? Crowley touched these books?_

"The fool demon heard they had been stolen from the monastery where I was stationed to work on them," Zira explained. "He intercepted the thieves before the chests could be divided and sold off across the country."

"Crowley came in contact with these books?!" Aziraphale cried. 

"Not directly, obviously," Zira grumbled. "That would have destroyed him immediately. It would have blinded the human thieves or driven them mad to look on them. They were safely locked in iron chests and I enchanted the locks myself. Still, they suspected _something_ valuable or sacred was inside and took all ten, I'm afraid to say."

"Ten!"

"And Michael was furious with me, as you can imagine. It was a right mess even without Crowley involving himself," Zira flipped a page angrily and Aziraphale winced at the lack of care shown to the book. "She insisted on coming with me to ensure their recovery and so, of course, Michael was the one who found Crowley driving the cart after scattering the thieves."

"Oh no," Aziraphale breathed. What a nightmare. 

"And Crowley, Pillock that he is, thought he could return ten heavenly texts to the monastery himself. Even bound in iron chests their holy aura was more than enough to poison the naff bugger. So there I was trying to find a way to keep him from discorportation while convincing Michael not to smite him on the spot! It was a fortnight before she left me be and returned upstairs, but by that time she had thoroughly soured on the texts."

"My goodness," Aziraphale shook his head. "How did you manage to save Crowley?"

"Nearly didn't manage it at all," Zira spat, angry at the memory. "He very nearly died on me several times the first night. I was beside myself and had to keep up the appearance of hating him. I managed to convince Michael that I could get information out of him. I suggested he might have tampered with the texts, and we could learn details of that and other possible plots."

"Michael would have eaten that up," Aziraphale frowned.

"Yes, it was a stay of execution," Zira sighed, his anger ebbing away. "And if she had just left me to it, I might have been able to heal Crowley more quickly, but she was monitoring my miracles and listening in on the...interrogation."

"Oh… did she force you to hurt him?" Aziraphale's heart clenched. What an awful bind. 

"It was enough that she believed I did," Zira smiled slightly. "I had to be creative with how I got the healing energy into Crowley, and I had to do it without Michael knowing. She believed I was torturing him and she was more than happy with that though."

Aziraphale frowned, and nodded. Some of the Archangels were very violent and merciless in their approach to upholding God's punishments.

"If she heard grunts and moaning and cries, she'd have no idea they could be caused by anything but pain," Zira continued, suddenly painting a very different picture. Aziraphale's eyes widened in shock. "And once Crowley was strong enough he took to some rather dramatic acting which further sold the farce."

"Quite the adventure," Aziraphale whispered, his cheeks burning now.

**__________**

"I will plant these clippers in your skull if you don't fuck off!" Anthony snapped at Crowley, waving said clippers angrily. Crowley smirked at him.

"No you won't. I'm the only one on your side," Crowley snorted, enjoying his pestering too much to let up now. There was a steadily increasing chance that he was, in fact, going to end up getting stabbed.

"My side," Anthony arched a brow. "My side in wot?"

"This spat you're in with Zira. He's clearly being shite-headed about something," Crowley shrugged. "Dunno what's come up between all the sex and all the crepes but s'obvious you're tried to make peace and he wanted to keep being a prat."

"Right?!" Anthony exclaimed, turning towards Crowley for the first time since he'd gone after the brunette. "S'like I can't do anything right now! S'infuriating. And the worst part is that I'm pretty sure I'm right!"

"Exactly!" Crowley agreed, feeding off Anthony's moral outrage. "Wait. Right about wot?"

"How to get you two back where you belong," Anthony spat, ripping a fist full of rue out of the ground and tossing it into the basket. Anthony had been gathering herbs and plants for twenty minutes. He used great care with some, and complete disregard with others and Crowley had given up trying to guess what Anthony was up to but wasn't prepared to ask.

"That's wot you're arguing about?" Crowley asked instead, following as Anthony left the garden and headed for copse of pine trees near the edge of the property.

"No flaming clue wot we're arguing about," Anthony growled. "Not like Zira's gonna lower himself to actually telling me wot's bothering him."

"Wow," Crowley frowned. "I'm not overly familiar with that side of the angel. Seems to me he's always been quick to start whinging on when I do something objectionable."

**__________**

"He's being insufferably stubborn!" Zira whinged. Aziraphale nodded, trying to look sympathetic. Zira had been complaining about Anthony for ten minutes and while Aziraphale wanted to be supportive, he also wanted to examine the texts.

"Mark my words, the serpent is probably gathering reagents as we speak, determined to go about his plan, regardless of my concerns."

"His plan to enchant an anchor to keep Crowley and I from getting lost in some interdimensional space?" Aziraphale asked innocently. There had to be more to Zira's objection than that, but damned if Aziraphale could see it. From what the other principality had told him, Anthony's plan seemed quite sound.

"What?" Zira huffed, turning his annoyed expression on Aziraphale now. "No! Well, _yes_ , but that's only the start of it. He means to merge your powers with ours!"

Aziraphale gasped and nearly tore the shimmering vellum under now trembling fingers.

**__________**

"Time to get high!" Anthony chirped.

The moratorium on bombarding Anthony with questions ran out when the raven-haired demon started scraping sticky pine sap into an oiled wooden salad bowl. Especially after saying _that!_

"Wot are you doing?" Crowley groaned. "Just tell me already! The suspense is too much."

"Collecting pine resin," Anthony said, unhelpfully. Crowley glared at him as he passed the dough scraper along the bark, gathering up more sap from where it had oozed from the severed branch above.

"Why?" Crowley whined. "I can see that you're collecting things, but _why?"_

"Engh, reagents mostly," Anthony sighed. "In case Zira comes around. This is just for recreational purposes though. I need a pick-me-up."

"So, you decide to play with one of the stickiest, most obnoxious substances on Earth?" Crowley snorted, taking a step back as Anthony turned again. The other demon smirked at him, prompting another backwards shuffle.

" _daemoniorum_ _nepeta_ _catoria_ ," Anthony murmured conspiratorially. He winked and headed back to the greenhouse with his basket and bowl. Crowley stared after him feeling exhausted, but at least Anthony's mood seemed to be improving.

"Catnip for demons," Crowley translated, following his counterpart inside. "Can't say I agreed, but whatever floats your boat."

"You haven't tried it," Anthony grinned. "You don't read unless you have to, and you weren't shackled up with Aziraphale during his stay at the Dryanovo Monastery when he found this little nugget of information. So you _didn't_ pester the angel to research it, you _didn't_ experiment with it, and now you _don't_ have a clue what this stuff does."

"It sticks to your hands and resists all mundane attempts to remove it," Crowley answered dryly. He wasn't getting trolled into touching the stuff. 

"Shaddup and hand me that charcoal burner," Anthony laughed. "You're gonna love this."

**__________**

"I think it's an excuse to be with Red, personally," Zira was saying. They'd taken a break from the holy manuscripts, closing them back into their protective chests, lest one or both of them damage the texts in their nerves.

"It's not like he needs an excuse, does he?" Aziraphale asked, genuinely confused. The Crowleys had been left unattended together when Zira brought him here. Aziraphale honestly didn't understand what the issue was.

"He's not supposed to prefer Red's company to mine," Zira sulked, and Aziraphale narrowly avoided laughing. Zira was _jealous?_ _Zira?_

"I'm positive he doesn't," he assured the other angel. What makes you think such a thing?

"He's been so focused on getting you and Red together, and as soon as that happens he's determined that isn't enough," Zira sighed. "He's invested in improving Red's state of mind, but at this point, Red should really be doing that for himself, shouldn't he?

Aziraphale frowned, setting his tea down. "Er... perhaps I am biased, but I can't see how Anthony's attention is a bad thing," he tittered nervously. "Wouldn't he understand Crowley's state of mind better than either of us?"

"I suppose so," Zira sighed. "but he's cutting corners and I fear it will blow up in their faces."

  
  


**__________**

Crowley stretched out, enjoying the way the sun glinted off his back. He shifted around on the warm bag of fertilizer, chuckling as the light lined the individual scales. It was funny. Everything was funny.

"Wosss funny?" Anthony's sleepy voice asked from the bag of potting soil to the left. Crowley swung his head to look at it, wondering if the soil was warmer than his fertilizer. Anthony was in a loose coil, only his snout sticking out towards Crowley. He looked comfortable. 

"Jussst a sec," Crowley snickered, slithering over. He poked his head under the first loop of Anthony's body.

"Woter you doing?" Anthony grumbled, loosening his coil even more so he could properly lift his head and glare at Crowley. Crowley continued to bury himself under the other snake, trying to steal the bag of soil out from under him. 

"Quit it!" Anthony hissed. "Tha'sss mine!"

Crowley's head peaked out the other side of Anthony's coil. He was about to slide back under when he spotted the charcoal burner and remembered the catnip. He abandoned his nap plans and slid over to burner, rising to look at smoking resin.

"This ssstuff is amazing," Crowley sighed. "What happens if you eat it?"

"Y'don't _eat_ it," Anthony yawned. "Y’burn it."

Crowley nodded thoughtfully, eyes drifting between Anthony and the incense. 

"I'm gonna eat it."

"Don't eat it!" Anthony hissed, finally lifting his head again. "Actually, nevermind. Go ahead. _Please_ eat it."

"Did _you_ want to eat it?" Crowley asked.

"No," Anthony snorted. "I mean… S'pine resin. Won't taste good." His light yellow eyes flicked from the burner to Crowley and back. "...Will it?"

" _Eat it_ ," Crowley challenged.

"You eat it," Anthony challenged back. "Wos _your_ idea."

"I'll eat it if _you_ eat it," Crowley tempted. 

Anthony uncoiled and slithered over.

**__________**

"They're cleverer than you give them credit for," Aziraphale attested. "And you've said yourself that Anthony is the enchanter between the two of you. Perhaps you should trust his judgement."

Zira set the iron chests back down on the reading desk and drew out the first text. He hummed, finger tracing over the golden vellum.

“Perhaps,” he murmured.

**__________**

"I hate you," Anthony growled.

Crowley snickered and stuck the spoon into Anthony's mouth again. "Peanut butter gets it out. Keep eating."

Anthony made a face, spreading the peanut butter around his mouth. He'd been understandably suspicious of Crowley's suggestions the spread would cut the pine sap. He had to pull up an article on his phone.

" _You_ still have to eat the resin, you know," Anthony grumbled angrily. “You said you would.”

"Nah," Crowley laughed, scooping more peanut butter.

**__________**

"I can't believe I've let myself get so insecure," Zira cried. "After everything I've said to you."

"You _did_ warn me that these feelings never really go away," Aziraphale reminded him gently, patting his shoulder. “But what brought this on now?”

“I hesitate to tell you this,” Zira mumbled. “But Crowley told me it is easier for him to climax with Red than it is with me right now.”

“Erm…” Aziraphale felt his cheeks redden, unable to stop himself from remembering the way Anthony looked in the throws of passion. The way his lemon yellow eyes glazed over, the shine on his caramel skin. Aziraphale quickly cleared his throat. “With respect, if that is even true, I suspect it is by a rather narrow margin. He certainly hasn’t had any trouble as far as I’ve seen.”

Zira gave a wet laugh, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I suppose.”

“Our demons do have a wicked tongue when they’re cross,” Aziraphale continued. “And I wouldn’t put it past him to resort to some insensitive hyperbole in hopes of gaining some presumed upper hand, either.”

“That is true…” Zira agreed with a sniff.

“Rather,” Aziraphale smiled fondly. “Now then. Let’s speak of more productive things.” He turned the conversation back to the merging of powers. Aziraphale was deeply fascinated by the prospect. He’d always thought what Zira and Anthony had achieved together was impossible. He remembered being sans body, considering occupying Crowley’s for a time before deciding it would likely cause them to explode. Later on when they switched bodies, Aziraphale had still been more than a little concerned that it would cause some sort of damage to one or both of them. It hadn’t caused any issue at all, and yet even now he was surprised to think a metaphysical merging of divine and infernal energies would cause anything other than a catastrophe.

“I completely understand your concern,” Zira told him. “I would have shared it! I never would have agreed to it if I had been thinking about it at all. It just sort of happened one day and it was so easy and natural. It felt like it was supposed to be.”

“Ineffable,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Don’t let Crowley hear you say that.”

“And it strengthened your powers,” Aziraphale breathed, proud and envious. “Deepend the pool you could draw from. And Crowley found he could enchant objects but… forgive me, did _you_ gain a new ability as well?”

Zira looked up at him then, blue eyes shining with pride now. He grinned.

**__________**

“Wos a good plan!” Anthony whined, moping around the sitting room. “I mean, if your angel isn’t gonna consider mergin’ your energies, right? Then I said… I said to Zira… ‘ _look, s’fine! We can do it for ‘em!_ ’”

“Ngeh?” Crowley asked. He was starting to wonder if the second dose of catnip was a good idea. They were definitely well past blotto now though so...

“Zira an’ Aziraphale,” Anthony drawled, swirling his wine in his glass. “You an’ me,” he swirled the wine the other way. “Zira an’ I already did the hard work, right? So… we just join with our counterparts and… give you a little boost.”

“Will that work?”

“Pfff… fucked if I know,” Anthony snorted. “Can’t see why we shouldn’t try.”

“Zira didn’t want to?” Crowley arched his brow. It seemed like that should mean something, Zira not wanting to. Zira was awfully clever.

“Zira!” Anthony shouted, spilling his wine. “Zira doesn’t trust me! My very own angel and he doesn’t even trust me!”

“Wot?” Crowley choked. This was the absolute worst news! “How could he… why wouldn’t…”

“Tha’sss why he took yer angel to the shop,” Anthony wailed, oozing off the chesterfield into a maudlin triangle on the floor. “Left us here with only a note! He’s gotta find some other way because Crowley can’t be trusted.”

“How’d he even get there so fast?” Crowley grumbled, feeling quite bitter about it all now as well. The Bentley was still parked out front and he couldn’t imagine there was a frequent bus route between the village and London. “How’d he scamper off. He vanished the other day on me too and I wos too annoyed to question it, but now I’m mad.”

“Ugh,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “He’s thinned the air all over the cottage. Helps him get to the shop in the blink of an eye, the tosser.”

“He bloody wot?”

“The air,” Anthony waved his hand around vaguely while smacking his lips distastefully. “S’thinned. You can jusss step through to the shop if you know where to look.”

“Can _you?”_ Crowley asked, astonished.

“Yeh,” Anthony answered, wiping his tongue on his sleeve. “Yyyerch.”

“S’pine still?” Crowley winced. It seemed like a grand idea at the time. Everything had seemed like a grand idea at the time.”

“S’even worse with the peanut butter,” Anthony growled.

“Mmmnph… sorry ‘bout that. Wish I had another— Oh! I can miracle it!” Crowley leaned forward, suddenly flooded with brilliance. 

Anthony looked up, eyes hopeful, sleeve in mouth. “You can?”

“Yeah! Demon!” Crowley grinned. “I can miracle to pine out, sure!” And he did. Anthony sucked his teeth thoughtfully for a moment, then slumped in relief.

“Thank you _soooo_ much!” he rejoiced. “Tha’s so much better. Wish I could do that.”

“You _can_ ,” Crowley snorted. Anthony glared at him for a second, then snorted too, cheeks suddenly very pink. They both doubled over in laughter. Fucking catnip!

“So… So… tell me…” Crowley wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “These thin spots lead to different parts of the shop, right?”

“Yeah,” Anthony grinned, wiping his eyes.

“And we’re mad at the angels?” Crowley added.

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed, his grin slipping a little.

“So how’r we gonna use these thin spots to get back at ‘em?” Crowley asked slyly. Anthony arched an eyebrow at him, then slowly smirked, looking back towards the kitchen.

**—————-**

Zira sighed. “Truthfully, it isn’t anything new.”

Aziraphale had tried not to pry, but it was obvious something was still bothering Zira.

“A few months ago Crowley admitted that he wanted to try something new to quiet his mind, and it isn’t something I trust him to be able to stop if he needs to,” Zira mumbled sadly. Aziraphale blinked, completely surprised that after all this time the husbands were _still_ evolving! He had so many questions, but the discomfort in Zira’s eyes kept him quiet. 

“Trust is so important in what we do,” Zira continued, twisting his fingers into his cardigan. “And I want to give him what he needs. Crowley goes dark sometimes and he thinks this will settle him but… I just _can’t_ risk his safety. Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale faltered, no longer able to help himself. “Didn’t you tell us that the sub was the one in control? That they could stop everything with a safeword? Is there no way to make sure he can use it?”

“Yes. He could easily just say the safeword and end it,” Zira said bitterly, eyes wet with unshed tears. “But he pushes it sometimes and… I try to know where his breaking points are in case he’s being stubborn and needs me to pull back for him but with this… when Crowley is in one of his dark phases… I don’t know where that line is. I need him to tell me and what if he doesn’t?”

“You have to trust your husband,” Aziraphale said firmly, surprising them both. Zira blinked up at him and opened his mouth to argue but Aziraphale shook his head and cut him off. “Anthony might push it, but you said yourself you don’t know where the line is and need him to tell you, so let him tell you. If he misses the mark, that won’t be your fault, and I don’t doubt you will both learn from the error. Isn’t it a greater risk to deny him something he says he needs simply because you don’t trust him to know his own limits?”

“Well… when you put it that way I sound controlling,” Zira huffed angrily.

“Do you?” Aziraphale asked innocently. Zira raised a blond eyebrow in annoyance but he smiled too.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I suppose I could ask to go over it again with him and listen a bit better this time,” he grumbled.

“I think that would be a very go—” Aziraphale abruptly cut off when a crepe appeared out of nowhere and landed on Zira’s head. A second later another landed on the desk, narrowly missing one of the heavenly texts. Another second and suddenly it was raining crepes from all directions.

It was complete and utter bedlam. Zira and Aziraphale scrambled to secure the texts back into the safety of their iron chests just in time for it to start raining berry compote and clotted cream. There was nowhere to turn that was safe. This was clearly a concerted effort by more than one demon. The two angels were forced to seek refuge under the heavy oak desk until the barrage of breakfast foods finally pittered out.

Aziraphale looked out across the mezzanine floor, taking in the mess. A lone crepe flopped off the table dropped before him with a dull splat. One of his white curls hung limply, coated in sticky purple compote. Zira was similarly splattered, blinking slowly as he too took in the carnage. As the shock faded, something hot and livid flooded in to replace it.

“Nevermind making nice with the fiends,” Aziraphale seethed. “We should jolly well _skin_ them!”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to be kept somewhat up to date on what I’m doing or my current excuses for not updating, please feel free to follow me on  
> [my boring Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheaSutton4), or [my boring Tumblr](https://verdantvulpus.tumblr.com/)


	21. Escape At Once!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snakes have never been higher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more popcorn POV
> 
> Please use your demon catnip responsibly.

“You’re sure it’s safe to strink with this duff?” Crowley asked, even though it was already two or three large _strinks_ too late. Anthony shrugged, grinning maniacally, and lit some more resin. The sitting room was already dim with smoke from the incense, and Crowley heard himself laughing like it was coming back to him from a distance. 

Was he laughing? He looked down at his whiskey glass. It was empty and there was a substantial amount of liquid now soaking into his shirt. 

“Yer booooze!” Anthony wailed mournfully, his face-splitting grin dissolving into horrified grief at Crowley’s loss. The darker demon collapsed in a heap on the floor and started crawling towards the whiskey bottle on the table. Crowley eyed the distance between them. It was too vast. He wasn’t going to make it.

“S’all right, mate,” he called. “Izzin’t werth it!”

“I can do it!” Anthony insisted like a madman. Crowley watched, rapt, as Anthony struggled up the table (so brave) and they both screamed in victory when his fingers curled around the bottle. With herculean effort, Anthony hurled himself back to the rugged floor and wriggled his way back. Crowley dropped his glass and reached his arm out for his friend, shouting encouragement. Finally — finally! — Anthony was nearly there, reaching out, their fingertips barely touching… Yes! Crowley snagged Anthony’s hand and hauled the other demon up until he sprawled across his lap. Lemon yellow eyes stared up at him, the grin back in place, sharp and giddy. Anthony took a moment to catch his breath before asking the impossible.

“Where’sss yer glass go?”

“Dunno,” Crowley admitted, getting a little distracted now by Anthony’s panting and squirming over his lap. “S’gone. Share the bobble?”

“Smmmart,” Anthony smiled. “Halp me up mmph—?” Crowley interrupted Anthony’s plea for assistance with his lips. He lifted him enough that he could rearrange his long legs to straddle Crowley, eagerly returning the kiss and rutting against his hips. Crowley moaned, dragging his fingers through soft black hair. The bottle fell to the cushion beside them, forgotten for now. This was sweeter though. He was achingly hard and the smoke made every touch more intense. Anthony’s tongue moving against his sparked with lust and magic. He gripped the hair in his fist tighter, swallowing Anthony’s moan. _That_ was good. He wanted more. He dropped one hand between their bodies and rubbed the demon’s erection through his trousers. Anthony’s moans were delicious and Crowley opened his mouth wider in hopes of catching every single one.

But just as things started to get _really_ good Anthony pulled away. Crowley squinted up at him, betrayed.

"Mmnngf, we gotta get 'pstairs," Anthony mumbled, taking Crowley's hand as he tried to slide off his lap. Crowley shook his head and used their joined hands to yank Anthony back down.

"Won't ever make it," Crowley told him, leaning up to scratch his teeth along the demon's carotid. Anthony shuddered and melted against him with a whine.

"We got to," he groaned, struggling wonderfully against Crowley's erection for a moment before finally seizing Crowley's face between his hands so they could stare into each other's eyes. "We gotta get 'pstairs, Red," he said urgently. "There's thingsss we can…" he trailed off, screwing his face up in concentration. "There's _things!"_ he finished decisively, and fuck, if that didn't sell the whole situation. 

" _Thingsss_. Right," Crowley agreed. This was very important. They'd get upstairs or they would die trying.

————— 

“I believe that’s the last crepe,” Aziraphale told his counterpart, tossing the torn bits of pastry into the bin. 

Zira nodded absently, stormy eyes surveying the damage still before them. The demons’ wrath had left its mark. There were splatters of berry compote, cream, syrup, and butter everywhere. It was a horrible waste of excellent food, which in Aziraphale’s eyes was more than bad enough. But the vexatious fiends had unleashed hell in the bookshop! He and Zira had managed to rescue the heavenly texts, thank goodness, but the rest of the books…

“It seems like they _tried_ to keep their destruction away from the book shelves,” Zira was saying, following Aziraphale’s thoughts. “If they were more sober they might have considered the issue of spatter.”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale huffed. “What makes you so sure they were drunk?”

“I caught a whiff of Crowley’s bloody pine resin incense when one of the crepe portals opened nearby,” Zira sighed. Aziraphale shot him a quizzical look and the angel rattled off some details that Aziraphale would have found abundantly more interesting if he were less annoyed. 

Catnip indeed. A twee moniker for something that apparently turned sweet demons into brainless criminals! Look at the lovely first edition of Moby Dick! Covered in chocolate sauce!

————— 

Time was being extra weird, simultaneously feeling too fast and too slow. Crowley came crashing up the stairs with Anthony on his heels, then it was like being hit by a vatful of treacle and the progress down was painfully slow. They finally hit the entrance of the main bedroom. _Literally_. Crowley failed to make the turn and smacked chest first into the doorframe. He'd have considered being embarrassed if Anthony didn't immediately follow suit, slamming his weight against Crowley, clinging to the back of his jacket to stay upright.

"Heh, this worksss," Anthony purred into Crowley's ear, finding his footing and rutting hard against Crowley's arse. Crowley started to snarl a complaint but _shit_ it felt good.

————— 

"Unbelievable," Aziraphale grumbled, cleaning the sticky residue off the spiral railing. He reset the sponge in his pail of soapy water and returned to work on another patch. "How did they manage _this much_ damage?"

Zira made a scoffing sound nearby on the mezzanine and miracled a ketchup stain out of the rug. They had agreed to take turns cleaning whatever surfaces they could the human way, and saving their magic for the books and sensitive fabrics. Both were exhausting in their way, but it was agreed they should save as much of their divine power as they could, in order to put it to good use when they got their hands on those bloody snakes.

Aziraphale still had no idea what they were going to do, and he was dimly aware they ought to be careful about taking any punitive action, not least because the Crowleys might enjoy it, but they'd be no better if they let their anger lead them into crossing a line.

The simplest answer was the silent treatment. Make it clear they were furious and hurt. That would no doubt cause Crowley more grief than anything else, a thought that warmed Aziraphale's heart and made him smile wistfully until he remembered that chocolate-sodden book downstairs. He immediately began throttling his sponge.

"Well well," Zira murmured, causing Aziraphale to look up from his soapy murder. The angel was peering through empty air but the malice sparking in his grey eyes told Aziraphale exactly who he was seeing through a patch of thinned space. 

————— 

"Should I take you here? Pound you into the door jam?"

Again, Crowley started to protest, but instead pressed his hips back against Anthony's, hissing. The truth was he didn't care. He knew Anthony was trying to provoke him to struggle, to turn and fight, tussle for dominance. He should want that too but— 

"Fffuck yesss. Give it to me," he groaned, tilting his head back so Anthony could bite at his neck. He surrendered to the smoke and whiskey and sex. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to melt into a puddle of sensation and desire. He wanted to get fucked again and again and again until he was exhausted and wet and _used_ and then he wanted to get fucked again. He wanted to get wrung out, desperate and powerless in the best way. 

"Gonna make you scream," Anthony growled, then sank his teeth into Crowley's shoulder. Crowley whined, shivering. _Yes yes yes!_

"Get this off," Anthony growled, tugging at Crowley's jacket now. Crowley considered helping but barely shrugged, suddenly dedicated to total passivity. 

"Shit!" Anthony cried, tugging Crowley back hard. Crowley moaned as Anthony clutched at him hard enough to bruise. "Shit, No! _He's got me!_ "

————— 

There was a faint shout on the other end of the portal as Zira thrust his arms through. He'd hit his mark, judging by Zira's determined grimace, and the furious hissing that was now filling the shop. Sure enough, he drew back slowly to reveal his fists were balled into a wine-red button up shirt as Anthony continued to try to wriggle away. The hissing was now doubled as it became clear Anthony was clinging desperately to Crowley and Zira was now pulling them _both_ through.

A moment later both demons were in the shop, yelling and hissing and clearly high off their blooming gourds. Anthony twisted free with a loud whoop of victory before staggering backwards over the balcony, shouting "parkour!" as he fell. Crowley froze in a crouch, likely disoriented to find himself in the shop. His wide eyes lit up when they landed on Aziraphale. He quickly scrambled closer, slurring some loose semblance of 'angel' and Aziraphale felt his anger rekindled. 

How could they get so badly blotto that they would damage his beloved books? (They were _Zira's_ books, but that was a distinction without a difference.) Before either of them knew it, Aziraphale threw the soapy sponge at the demon, hitting him square in the face with a wet splash. 

_That ought to sober you up,_ he thought bitterly, but of course, that wasn’t how substances work and now Crowley was merely high and wet… and on the ceiling.

" _Betrayal_!" Crowley cried down at him in perfect Middle French. 

" _Flee! Escape at once_!" Anthony screeched somewhere below them, although it took Aziraphale a moment to translate. It had been ages since he'd heard Akkadian.

Evidently the demon's were far too plastered to manage much more than scurry around in a mad panic while forgetting entirely how to locate the exits. Anthony was now clinging to the drapes in the backroom below while Crowley was trying to hide in the shelves.

"Oh, for Heaven's Sake!" Zira growled. He passed Aziraphale as he jogged down the stairs. Anthony hissed at him and climbed higher. Aziraphale could only shake his head, stifling a huff of incredulous laughter as his counterpart dislodged the yowling demon with a broom.

He was fully laughing as Zira crowded his struggling husband out the front door, still threatening him with the raised broom.

"Out! Out!" Zira roared, red-faced. Anthony was indeed ousted, his yelping fading away as Zira slammed the door. "Bloody menace!" Zira growled, still brandishing his broom. "Where's the other one?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat, wiping away tears of laughter and was about to point out Crowley's hiding spot when the ginger demon decided his best course was to attack.

Crowley raced across the ceiling with a feral battle cry before tripping over the light fixture and falling into another bookcase before getting scooped up by Zira.

"Whyyyy?!" Crowley wailed as he was flung from the shop. There was a moment of peace and quiet as Zira once again slammed the door on the lunacy. 

Aziraphale surveyed the new damage, the broken shelf, the scattered books, the shredded drapery.

"I think, perhaps, bringing them here was a mistake," Zira sighed. Aziraphale dissolved into laughter again.

————— 

They ran. Crowley had never been particularly good at running, finding it required an amount of limb coordination that was fully beyond him even on a good day. Today was not a good day. He kept tripping over his own ankles and nearly went arse over tit several times. Anthony seemed to be similarly confounded and pitched painfully into Crowley sending them both sprawling against the rough bricks of a nearby shop, a flash of bright yellow eyes shocked Crowley out of his giddy vamoosing. He grabbed Anthony and hauled him into a nearby ally, suddenly feeling real panic.

"Eyes!" Crowley hissed. "No glasses!"

"Eep!" Anthony replied, instinctively bringing a hand to his temple, registering the lack of familiar frames. "You too," he frowned. "Shit! Can you mickacle...mirackle...magic up a pair?"

Crowley grimaced. That question didn't bode well. Sure enough, a snap of his fingers yielded nothing but a sharp echo against the buildings. The panic mounted.

"Yeah, my power's out too," Anthony muttered, glancing out into the street. "Can't ever manage a proper miracle when I'm blitzed on nip."

"You knew this would happen and didn't bloody warn me?" Crowley snarled.

"Oi!" Anthony snapped back. "We were safe and sound at the cottage, don't forget. How was _I_ s'pose to know the angels would _attack_ us like that?!"

That was a good point, and Crowley adjusted his ire appropriately. "Yeah! Wot the sodding crap wos _that_ about?!"

“Blessed if I know,” Anthony grumbled, easing closer to the mouth of the alley and peering around before turning back to Crowley with a look of pure consternation. “Wos a quality prank. I figured the angels would be good for a laugh but obviously I was wrong.”

“Aziraphale _hit me!_ ” Crowley ranted, kicking an errant cat food tin for emphasis. Anthony looked terribly offended which at least made him feel a bit validated.

“He bloody _wot?_ ” the demon hissed. “He _hit_ you?! Are you hurt?”

“Nuh. Wet, a bit,” Crowley admitted. “Think it might ‘ave been a sponge. Tasted like soap.”

“You…” Anthony shook his head with incredulous fury. “You idiot! I thought we had a fucking crisis on our hands! He hit you with a ssssodding sponge?!”

“I’d say it was sodding,” Crowley shrugged. “Lookit my shirt!” he showed the wet spot off like a war wound. Anthony looked at it with a raised eyebrow, then snorted.

“Sodding,” he chortled in agreement, and then laughed in earnest, pulling Crowley along with his mirth until they were both clinging to each other in the alley, wheezing. 

“Right… we… should sober up,” Crowley suggested.

“Oh, we’re hoursss away from that, M’fraid,” Anthony sniffed, wiping his eyes. “Better served nicking some new sunglasses from the bodega down the way, then figurin’ out wot’s crawled up the angels’ bums.”

“Ugh,” Crowely grimaced. “Wretched. It wosss a good joke and we made sure to keep their precious bloody books outta the fray so…” he trailed off with a thoughtful frown at that though as the memory of their gleeful crepery came back to him. Anthony seemed to be frowning too. “We did, didn’t we?”

“Er…” Anthony began to pale. That wasn’t a good sign either. “I mean, we didn’t _aim_ at the books…”

“Please tell me we didn’t...” Crowley broke off with a whine, panic gripping his throat.

“This is bad,” Anthony blurted, raking his fingers through his hair. “They’ll never forgive us! Mine’sss already sore at me for Satan knows wot and now _this?!”_

“We need to fix it,” Crowley yelped. “How do...do we fix it? Do we go back? Do we… Do we _run?_ ”

“We can’t go back,” Anthony told him glumly. “We’re still high as… as…”

“As…” Crowley scrunched up his face in concentration, trying to help his friend find an appropriate simile, although why it mattered was beyond him. “As… anything?”

“Right! High as anything!” Anthony slapped his hands together, only missing slightly. “And sloppy, right? Gonna make another mess of things no doubt. Gotta hide out until we soberber up. And _then_ there’s the— wotss-the-word— the come down. This much nip tha’sss gonna pack wallop.”

“Crash?” Crowley sighed. “Oh Wonderful. Try picturin’ this mood getting worse!”

“Worse?” Anthony looked confused for a moment, then barked a laugh. “Oh! Oh no. No no no. S’nothin’ like that. No crash. Demon drugs, mate. Not human rubbish.”

“That’sss a relief,” Crowley grinned.

————— 

“I take it you didn’t have any luck either?” Aziraphale sighed as Zira met him outside the shop and ushered him inside. They had split up to look for the Crowleys once Aziraphale remembered they didn’t have their glasses on and Zira told him they were likely unable to use their powers while so badly inebriated. 

On the one hand, the idea of them having their full demonic powers at their disposal while barking mad was a terrifying thought, the idea of them being powerless while barking mad and without their glasses wasn’t much better.

“They’re hiding somewhere nearby,” Zira sighed. “I can’t pinpoint them, but I can feel that Crowley is still in Soho. They’ve probably reverted to their serpent forms to hide in some shadowy place or another.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale winced, twisting his fingers nervously in his waistcoat. “Snakes in the damp London shadows doesn’t seem terribly safe, does it? Won’t they get rather cold?”

Zira looked up at him, his eyes darkening as his expression shifted from concerned to alarmed.

————— 

“This isss muuuuuch better,” Anthony grumbled sarcastically, sliding in close to Crowley as they cowered under a dumpster.

“I’m not the only one who ssssnaked up when that bloke came out the back exit,” Crowley hissed back. “‘Sidessss the angelsss will never find us now.”

“Sss’true.” Anthony agreed. “Sssmells bad though.”

“Wotsss the worry you’re havin’ over the comedown?” Crowley asked, swinging his head to look at Anthony in the gloom. 

“Hehn?”

“You said somethin’ about coming down off the nip,'' Crowley reminded him. “Before that guy spooked us. Something about it made it sssseem like another problem.”

“Oh,” Anthony dropped his head dejectedly. “Yeh. Not gonna be much fun now that we’re trapped under a dumpster and the angelsss hate usss.”

“They _hate_ ussss?” Crowley whispered, heartbroken. Aziraphale _couldn’t_ hate him. They’d just gotten together! It couldn’t be over so soon, could it? But of _course_ it could. Crowley could ruin anything in no time flat. And it made sense if he was going to blow up his relationship with Aziraphale he might as well take Anthony’s marriage out with him. 

“M’sorry,” he sighed, sliding over Anthony affectionately. “Sss’all my fault. The crepesss were my idea.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Anthony replied, depressed.

“M’ sssorry,” Crowley repeated, slithering off the other snake again, dejected. He curled himself up by the bricks at the back of the dumpster instead. He tucked hiss head under his own coil and shivered. How late was it? It felt like it was getting cold. It felt like that should matter more but he couldn’t remember why. Why should a bit of discomfort matter when Aziraphale probably hated him and now Anthony was sad? “Leasssst I can do iss say it. You were right. I _am_ the worsssst Crowley.”

“That doesssn’t matter either,” Anthony pointed out grimly. “All Crowleysss are the worst.”

————— 

“I can bring them here but it won’t do much good if they go ballistic again,” Zira argued. Aziraphale was beginning to feel quite cross. 

“Surely at this point what matters most is their safety!” he exclaimed.

“Of course that’s my priority too!” Zira gasped, offended. “Crowley is my husband! I wouldn’t jeopardize him for anything! That isn’t what I meant!”

Aziraphale felt the word ‘husband’ burrow under his skin and burn. He forced himself not to lash out on a tirade over it. It was more than likely Zira didn't mean any offense (Anthony _was_ his husband after all) and Aziraphale’s itchy feelings about marriage were hardly a concern at this juncture anyway. Obviously. (And yet, there it burned regardless.) Fortunately, Aziraphale was well practiced at operating at tip top shape while nursing any number of slights, be them his own fault or no.

Zira seemed to be doing the same. Hurt bloomed in his stormy eyes ever so briefly before they hardened with conviction. “They’re not thinking rationally, and I don’t want to have to manhandle them in this state. We could _hurt_ them. Especially if they are cold.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips and swore under his breath. He hadn’t considered that, but the way they panicked and fled before certainly didn’t bode well should they once again find themselves unexpectedly pulled into the bookshop.

“Well… there is one other option,” he sighed.

————— 

“We probably sssshould leave our ssssnake forms,” Anthony suggested weakly. Crowley tried to shrug but he didn’t have shoulders so he just replied with a half hearted hiss. He didn’t want to go back to human form. His human form was just pointy and clumsy and people would be afraid of his eyes. And he was _tired_. Much too tired to deal with all of that. 

“Oi,” Anthony hissed. “Don’ you fall assssleep,” he snapped. “Sss’ too cold. _We’re_ too cold. Gotta warm up.”

“Fffff…” _Fuck off,_ Crowley tried to say. He knew he was cold. He knew he had to go back to being too tall, too loud, too red, too much. He just wasn’t ready— “YOW! Wot the FUCK!?” he screached as Anthony sank his teeth into his back. He reacted on instinct, immediately popping back into his human form. Except— oops! — There wasn’t room for a human-sized being to materialize under the dumpster so Crowley ended up _inside_ the flipping thing. He shouted a string of the vilest oaths he could think of as he struggled his way past all the old chinese food to push the lid up. 

Anthony was just dusting himself off, when he made the mistake of looking over at Crowley and laughing.

“You’ve got noodles in your hair!” Anthony wheezed. Crowley tumbled gracelessly over the edge of the dumpster, fueled by his rage. A second later he had his hands around Anthony’s throat and the bastard was still laughing.

At least until they felt the thrum of angelic magic. Anthony stopped laughing, and Crowley stopped throttling. They looked at eachother with nearly identical expressions of dread before they looked down at the summoning circle forming under their feet.

“That’ll be for you,” Crowley smirked, side-stepping the circle.

“Oh, you fucking bastard!” Anthony snarled, swiping for Crowley but he jogged out of arms reach as the circle continued to fill itself out in gleaming gold. “Wot’s yer plan, huh? Hide out here all alone until you come crawlin’ back to the shop?”

Crowley sighed and hung his head. He _should_ step back in. There wouldn’t ever be a plan that didn’t involve crawling back to the angels and begging forgiveness. They both knew it. He nodded and opened his eyes in time to see the tracings of gold seeping out from the summoning circle towards him. Both demons watched in stunned silence as the angelic script flowed over Crowley’s feet and just like that he was back in the circle, snugged up tight against Anthony.

“Ew!” Anthony recoiled as a piece of cabbage fell off Crowley’s shoulder onto him.

“Looks like both Crowleys get summoned after all,” Crowley muttered right before the circle reached its conclusion and they were taken from the ally with a melodious twang.

————— 

They had decided to return to the cottage to perform the rituals. It was a more comfortable space for all parties and the bookshop had been through quite enough as it was. The chesterfield was moved and the rugs rolled up and set aside. The kettle was boiling and windows were opened to air the place out. There was still a lingering scent of pine, but he was assured that without the smoke, the scent alone wouldn’t cause the demons any ill effects.

Zira concentrated on forming his circle, head bowed and he wove his magic with expert grace. Aziraphale watched him, studying the weaves of golden light, the way the sigils fell into place. It was smooth and easy and gave the impression of something done many times before. Another hint at their storied past? Or was it more likely simply because of the way Zira and Anthony’s magics have blended over the years that made summoning this particular demon seem second nature now?

Aziraphale tried to prepare himself for whatever condition the Crowleys might be in once Zira’s summoning was complete. Zira assured him he didn’t believe they were in serious peril yet, but Aziraphale’s mind was running wild with thoughts of hypothermic serpents and his fingertips glowed with unconscious healing energy.

What appeared in the summoning circle however wasn’t two half-frozen snakes, but two quarreling demons, both clearly chilled, judging by shivering, but very much alive.

And for some reason Crowley looked and smelled like he’d been in a dumpster. Aziraphale immediately changed the healing spell into a cleansing one, cleaning his demon before the smell could further assault his nostrils. The spell also had the side effect of reminding both demons of where they now were and they froze in place, curses cut off mid-threat and neither moved for a comically improbable amount of time.

“Do you think if you stand still enough we won’t see you?” Aziraphale asked finally.

“I don’t think it's working,” Crowley whispered.

“Right,” Anthony cleared his throat and quickly smoothed his clothing and hair, somehow only managing to look more wild. “First order of business then is is is…” he seemed lost and looked over at Crowley who looked equally lost.

“Books?” Crowley asked him. 

“Books!” Anthony clapped his hands once in satisfaction before turning to the angels. “Did we, by chance, sssully any books in our little… our…

“You did,” Zira answered dryly.

“Quite a number of them in fact,” Aziraphale added, feeling cross again.

“I see. I see…” Anthony nodded. “Run!” he shouted at Crowley, darting towards the exit and instead running face first into the edge of Aziraphale’s demon trap. Crowley blinked as Anthony bounced off the invisible wall and fell over. A bark of surprised laughter pressed through his lips before he seemed to guess he might be similarly snookered and began reaching out with tentative hands.

“Er…” the ginger intoned nervously as his fingers slid over the barrier keeping them in. “Wot’s with the demon trap?”

“You two need a safe place come down, and you didn’t seem likely to stay put,” Zira answered, gesturing to where Anthony was sprawled at Crowley’s feet.

“Ah,” Crowley nodded. “The fleeing, yes.”

“Are you cold?” Aziraphale asked? The demons nodded, looking chagrined. Zira fetched the tea anyway, passing them both a cup and saucer. They both drank it half down immediately.

“You put a splash of whiskey in it,” Anthony murmured with an almost wistful smile.

“You prefer it that way, don’t you?” Zira asked, bemused. Anthony looked up at him with wide eyes wet with brimming tears. 

“You _DO_ still love me!” he bawled, the tea cup shaking in his hands. Aziraphale felt an almost overwhelming desire to comfort the maddening demon. Zira seemed to be doing his best to look annoyed, but Aziraphale saw through the charade.

“Crowley, I adore you now and forever, but if you think these soppy antics are going to keep me from being sore with you, you are sadly mistaken.”

“It was Red’s idea!” Anthony cried. “I wos just gonna do the nip to calm down and then Red suggested tossing the crepes through and —" 

“Oi! Wot!?” Crowley snarled, rounding on Anthony. “Wot the—"

“Well you did!” Anthony sulked. “I immediately went along with it ‘cause I thought it was brilliant at the time, but It _wos_ your idea.”

Crowley immediately dissolved into a slew of colourful threats and insults. Aziraphale sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Perhaps keeping them together is a mistake,” he sighed, accepting his own cup of tea from Zira with a grateful nod. “At this rate they’re likely to do each other in.”

Zira chuckled fondly and shook his head. “If they’re at the candidly veracious phase they’ll be fine. This part is usually accompanied by bouts of sleepy affection.”

————— 

It felt like Zira’s words were sinking through layers of soup before finally reaching him, and he was distracted with concocting a new Anthony murdering plot (this one mostly involved creative and liberal use of a spade) but he forced himself to pay attention when he head the phrase ‘candidly veracious’.

“Whoa whoa whoa…” Crowley held up his hands, trying to make everything and everyone stop spinning and making noise for a moment so he could just sort something out. “Did you say voracious, or veracious, because I’m thinking either might be a problem.”

“ _Veracious_ , dear,” Zira repeated, smiling a fond smile that was just a little too wide. 

Crowley felt cold for a moment, and then suddenly much too hot, and he glared openly at Anthony. He was about to scream at the other demon but caught himself and decided to use pit-cant instead. That turned out to be challenging in another way, since the ancient war dialect didn’t have any modern words. He did his best with what he could remember.

_This make us tell them the truth?_

“You can’t do that in the open, you dolt,” Anthony hissed at him. “Angels aren’t s’posed to know ‘bout pit-cant. S’a flayable offense!”

Crowley dropped his arm and arched an eyebrow at him. Anthony slapped a hand over his mouth. The sad thing was Crowley still wasn’t sure if that was because of some truth serum-esque side effect or if it was just Anthony being a plastered idiot.

“Oh, I already know about pit-cant,” Aziraphale revealed, at the same moment Zira asked “What in Heaven’s name is pit-cant?” The angels glanced at each other for a moment. Anthony winced.

“I don’t understand wot’s wrong,” he whined suddenly. “Catnip’s supposed to be fun!”

“You _make_ it fun,” Zira corrected lightly, reaching through the demon trap to lovingly cup Anthony’s cheek. “I told you several times when we discovered the writings about demons and pine resin. This was always a way for the monks to control and subjugate demons. It wasn’t intended to be used recreationally but you wanted to be _creative_...”

“WOT?!” Crowley screeched! This was absolutely news to him “You didn’t say anythin’ ‘bout subjugation! You called it catnip! It was supposed to be relaxing!”

“Well _I_ wosn’t gonna subjugate you, you twat,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “And the angels were gone but they weren’t likely to subjugate you either. S’perfectly fine to use.”

“Please tell me what kind of drugs I did before I have a heart attack or discorporate your husband or both,” Crowley begged Zira. Since the angel’s arm was already touching Anthony through the trap, Crowley took it in his own hands as he pleaded. Zira’s palm was soft and warm and before he knew it he was rubbing his cheek against it.

"According to the manuscript we found the smoke of pine resin was found to make demons highly suggestible," Zira explained kindly, cupping his cheek now and Crowley snorted a laugh before releasing the angel's hand again. 

"I can confirm that’s true," he nodded, thinking of Anthony chomping on bubbling sticky pine gum. He'd been about to follow suit. 

"As it runs its course, there's a short period where demon's are unable to obfuscate the truth and after that comes the affectionate cuddling,” Zira continued. “Nothing particularly dangerous about it, except that I’d imagine any demons caught by its effects would have their reputations badly damaged.”

“That would be the dangerous part, yeah,” Crowley thought, shuddering at what would have befallen any demons who had happily done a monk’s bidding, told the truth and then snuggled.

"Shuts off all the overthinkin'" Anthony agreed, returning to sip at his tea. "Just didn't like my thoughts this morning. So it wos time to shut em off."

"Oh, darling," Zira sighed, reaching for Anthony again. "I am sorry for how I left things this morning. I wasn't being fair at all."

"Wos only tryin' to help," Anthony told him and now both angels were cooing and reassuring him. What was going on?!

"Your idea wasn't without merit and should have listened better but I was being jealous," Zira admitted, watching Anthony rub his cheek into his palm now. Was that how Crowley looked? All blissed out and desperate? _No._ He probably looked sexy when he did it. Definitely cooler.

"Lemme out of this trap angel," Anthony purred, pale yellow eyes smoldering with promise. "I'll show you you've got nothing to worry about. I'll suck you down so well you never feel jealous again."

"Damn…" Crowley whimpered. The other demon went from zero to temptation at 200% 

Maybe it was the drugs making him seem so hot and Anthony was actually just making a fool of himself. Crowley glanced at the angels to see if they were rolling their eyes or otherwise dying of secondhand embarrassment, but no. Zira had flushed pink, lips parted as he leaned ever so slightly forward. The _holier-than-thouest of Aziraphales_ was fully entranced byAnthony's temptation. 

_He really is the better Crowley_ , he thought, and… smiled. He was smiling! Anthony's success wasn't automatically making him feel like a failure! He _liked_ that Anthony was fucking fantastic at seduction. He was _proud._

"This part of the drug isn't so bad," he mused. This is what people were supposed to feel when someone they cared about succeeded, wasn’t it? Wow! Did he _care_ about Anthony? Was Anthony his _best friend?!_ No. _Aziraphale_ was his best friend. Could someone have two best friends? Best means best, right? You can't have two bests. That's just...greedy? 

He _was_ a demon. He was _supposed_ to be greedy so he could have all the bests he wanted. So Anthony was his best friend and Aziraphale was his best friend. Except that Aziraphale was more than that now too. And were you allowed to fuck your best friend? He wished he had a dry-erase board to figure this out. Shite! How much time had passed while he was soliloquizing in his head?! Couldn't have been too long. Anthony was still tempting Zira and Aziraphale was watching Crowley with a peculiar scrutiny. 

"Angel?" he asked, resting his hands on the invisible wall of the trap. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to curl against that pillowy body and rub his face into his chest. He'd like that wouldn't he? Aziraphale mentioned he wanted to cuddle and suddenly Crowley saw the appeal.

"Take me upstairs," Anthony was whispering now. "Remember Amsterdam 1975?"

"Oh!" Zira gasped and there was so much desire in Zira's lust-cracked exclamation it pulled Aziraphale and Crowley out of their own silent communication. Honestly. These two and their weird little sex codes.

"All right, I'll bite. What was Amsterdam 1975?" he asked, really needing to know what could make Mr. _Pinnacle-Of-Control_ make that sound.

"Ten hours or so of me eating the angel out so well he finally agreed to let me start a riot," Anthony replied instantly. Zira blinked, spluttering and flushing red. 

"Crowley!" he snapped, turning away and hiding his face in his hands.

"Wot?!" the Crowleys snapped back defensively before Crowley realized Zira meant Anthony and Anthony realized he'd said too much.

"S'Not my fault!" he cried. "Veracious, remember!"

" _I_ remember," Aziraphale murmured. It was the first thing he'd said in a while and both demons flicked wary gazes his way. "I've been thinking about that. Particularly about the ethics of asking you something while you're unable to lie."

Crowley and Anthony exchanged glances again.

"Er, is this something you want to ask _us_ or… just _me_ ?" he asked with a shrug he hoped looked passably nonchalant. "I mean, s'not like I've made a habit of lying to you Angel. That's more _your_ bag than mine, really."

Aziraphale flinched and Zira turned back to give Crowley a grumpy warning look.

"We ought to unpack that another time," Aziraphale responded carefully. "There is enough heightened emotion right now what with the books and the pine resin…"

"Wos _his_ books we made a mess of, not yours," Crowley reminded him and this time it was Anthony who flinched. 

"Maybe don't mention the books?" Anthony whispered.

"Oh we _will_ discuss the books," Zira chided. "But there isn't any point until you're both sober.

"In the meantime…"Anthony drawled, offering his husband a coy smile. "Amsterdam?" he added hopefully.

Zira snorted and briskly stalked off. Anthony frowned in disappointment, sliding down the trap's barrier to sit on the floor and sulk. Crowley preferred to sulk while standing and returned to staring at Aziraphale. Aziraphale watched his counterpart storm off and sighed.

"You _know_ that I would feel an attachment to this world's bookshop," Aziraphale reminded him. "And I wouldn't suffer _any_ book to be so ill treated, regardless of current ownership, so don't pretend you don't understand why your actions at the shop upset me as well."

"Ffffine," Crowley rolled his eyes. "I concede the point. But you can't tell me you have some burning question you think I'll lie to you about and then walk it back, so just ask."

"Lies of omission are still lies, Crowley," Aziraphale retorted. 

"Nnnn," Crowley stalled. He was very much on the fence about so-called lies of omission. He always told himself they were only 'lies' because humans decided to _call_ them that. He preferred to think of it as ‘avoiding conflict’. He was also aware that the alternative to omission was to directly _lie_ so the humans (and Aziraphale) might have a point, but he wasn't willing to concede again. Fortunately Aziraphale saved him by asking his question.

"Why didn't you tell me about the letter from Hell?"

Crowley arched a brow, searching his jumbled brain for what Aziraphale was talking about.

"The one where they said you'd have to blow Hastur for eternity if you ever got discor—"

Anthony supplied helpfully before slapping a hand over his own mouth. Again.

"Oh. _That_ letter from Hell," Crowley muttered. "I wossn't keeping it from you, Angel. There's nothing you could do 'bout it though so I didn't see a point in mentioning it. Would only upset you."

"I might have been able to suggest something!"

"To prevent me from ever discorporating? You're very powerful, Angel, but I think that's a bit outside your preview," Crowley scoffed. "Wot, you gonna keep me in this trap forever?"

"Nuuuuuu," Anthony yowled. "I'm in here too!"

"I don't know!" Aziraphale cried in frustration. "I don't know how to help. Not yet anyway, but… I could have shared the burden. How would you like to learn Gabriel was threatening me with eternal scribing under Sandalphon?"

Both Crowleys hissed violently.

"He did wot?" Crowley snarled. "When?!"

"I'll bite his fucking nose off!" Anthony snapped.

"When did this happen?" Crowley demanded. "Why didn't you bloody tell— whoops, yep, I see wot you did," Crowley's ire melted into deadpanned humiliation. Was this also the drugs fault or was he always an idiot. Aziraphale was smiling now at least. Crowley sighed and shrugged in defeat.

"Fair enough. I'll tell you immediately about any future correspondences from Hell," he vowed. Aziraphale nodded and Crowley waited expectantly for there to be more, but Aziraphale looked content. “Was that it? That was the big burning question? Why didn’t I tell you about a letter?”

“Well…” Aziraphale blushed now. “I suppose I was worried you didn’t trust me.”

“I’m just trying to protect you, Angel,” Crowley murmured. “I’ve always tried to keep you safe.”

“You have,” Aziraphale nodded. He took a breath, and then scuffed the linework of the demon trap with the toe of his shoe. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d very much like to go upstairs and take advantage of this supposed period of cuddly affection you’re due.”

Crowley felt his heart leap and his face almost hurt from grinning so hard. He fell forward, wrapping his arms around his angel, peppering kisses into his curls and reveling in the bubbly giggling that produced. There was a dejected flopping sound to his left as Anthony dropped onto the sofa and Crowley looked down in time to see the demon turn back into snake form and slide under the cushions.

Crowley sighed and looked back at Aziraphale. “Can Anthony join us?” he asked. 

“I don’t need yer pity,” came a muffled small voice. Aziraphale blinked at the sofa and looked alarmed. “And stop callin’ me Anthony!”

“What on earth are you doing inside the chesterfield, dear?” Aziraphale demanded. “Are you still cold?”

“M’not cold!” Anthony snapped, poking his head back out from the side of the sofa. “M’sulking! Go away!”

Crowley snatched the snake up by the back of the skull and pulled him out of hiding. “S’Not pity you idiot,” he growled as Anthony whipped around, flashing his teeth. “I owe you one, is all.” That seemed to silence the struggling at least, but Anthony stayed in his snake form, even after they went upstairs. Zira agreed to join them and suggested the main bedroom for a cuddle pile. Crowley was more than ready for a nap, and sleeping between two angels with his best friend curled around his shoulders seemed more than perfect. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe I’ve had two chapters in a row without any smut! I’ll have to make sure to fix that next chapter.


	22. One Thing We Got Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley learns something shocking about Anthony and Zira. The angels find a way for the demons to make amends for the crepes incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Cow! A new chapter!
> 
> Don't mind the chapter count. It may move out a bit again.

Crowley had felt very warm. What was more, he had felt very safe, buried under soft warm weight. Gradually that weight lessened to nearly nothing, taking much of the warmth with it. The loss pulled him from the deepest part of his slumber but didn’t wake him completely. There was still some heat left. 

And he was still safe.

Crowley stretched languidly, snuggling into his warm fuzzy pillow, ready to dive back into the darkness of sleep. He was so bloody comfortable he didn’t bother to repress the rumbling sound of contentment that bubbled out of his throat.

“Oh! You _can_ purr!”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open at the bright sunny voice, his spine whipping him upright to glare resentfully at the angel he’d been sleeping so soundly upon just a moment ago.

“I don’t— S’not bloody — demon’s don’t— Ugh! _Shaddup_!” he snapped, stumbling over his own indignation. He snatched the blanket over himself, curling away from Aziraphale and grumbling. Why was it always a mistake to wake up? Something stupid happened every time.

“I don’t know why you’re embarrassed,” Aziraphale was saying, his voice exasperatingly fond. “It’s very charming, you know.”

“Sod off,” Crowley growled. “Where did the other weirdos go?”

He was reluctant to admit it, but Crowley had been incredibly happy when he’d fallen into bed, held tightly between two Aziraphales and Anthony’s smooth scales. He’d woken a few hours later to find Anthony had switched back to human form sometime in the night, his arms wrapped around Zira’s elbow and his leg flung over Crowley’s hip. 

Crowley had wriggled back until he could feel the soft puff of Anthony’s breath on his shoulder, and shivered pleasantly when he felt Zira’s fingertips gently brush the back of his ribs. And there, smiling dreamily at him in the moonlight, was his own angel, holding him tightly, one arm draped over his waist to rest on Anthony’s hip. 

Aziraphale had leaned forward and pressed his lips to Crowley’s forehead and he had fallen back asleep, surrounded by more love and affection that he ever imagined possible.

He was more than happy to wake up in his angel’s arms, purring-accusation not withstanding, but he already missed the other two. He knew something was bothering Anthony.

“They… erm… Well, Zira left some time ago, and Anthony woke up about an hour or so later,” Aziraphale was saying. Crowley lifted the blanket off his head and turned back to look up at the angel, curious about the trepidation in his voice. “Anthony thought it might be nice for us to spend some time alone together.”

“It would be,” Crowley admitted, wishing he could have said it without blushing. “So wot’s got you feeling badly about it?”

“I don’t,” Aziraphale rushed to argue. “Having you all to myself is more than agreeable to me.” There was something about the way Aziraphale’s pupils dilated that suggested the angel had something specific in mind. Crowley decided to put a pin in the disappearing husbands mystery in light of this new development. He smirked and slithered closer to the angel.

“Oh really?” his drawled. “And wot did you have in mind to do with me once you got me alone, Angel?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned, the heated need in the angel’s voice inflaming Crowley’s own desire. His cock filled as he bit his lip in a flirtatious smile. He’d never get tired of seeing Aziraphale like this. Of seeing Aziraphale _wanting_ him. 

“Well first,” Aziraphale began, and reached behind him for something from the bedside table. Crowley’s heart leapt in anticipation, making the disappointment ever more substantial when the angel turned back holding a boring glass of water. “I intend to make sure you’re hydrated after your drug-fueled romp through the shop yesterday.”

Crowley frowned, taking the water gingerly and sipping it. He _was_ feeling a little more wooly-headed than usual, and the water was oddly refreshing and — _Ohshitbloodycrappybollocks now he remembered what happened yesterday!_

He flicked his gaze back at Aziraphale, who was staring at him with a firm, imperious look that did _nothing_ to stave off Crowley’s growing erection. He knew he was in trouble but — hot damn! — was the cold, masterful angel thing _doing it_ for him. Aziraphale gave the glass a pointed look and Crowley quickly drained it, thrilling when that earned him a little smile and nod of approval.

“Is that what was making you uncomfortable about the other two leaving?” Crowley asked quietly. “Zira must be furious with us.”

“With _Anthony_ ,” Aziraphale corrected with a slight shrug. Somehow the distinction didn’t make Crowley feel much better. “And… you?”

“I don’t believe you _intended_ any harm,” Aziraphale sighed. “I was very upset though, Crowley. You both made such a mess of the shop. Of several books!”

“I’m sorry. We can fix it!” Crowley said quickly, horrified that he’d let something like this happen. “We’ll miracle it all back to rights. Page by page if you like!”

“I don’t doubt that,” Aziraphale nodded. “Rest assured you’ll be given the opportunity to make reparations for what transpired yesterday.”

“Will you forgive us,” Crowley asked, heart in his throat. Aziraphale blinked in surprise, then laughed and pulled Crowley up onto his lap, enveloping him in a hug.

“Oh my darling,” he sighed. “Of course you’re forgiven. It would have been clear to anyone that you were both out of your minds at the time. It was thoughtless and a little devastating, but…” Aziraphale snickered into Crowley’s hair, his chest shaking with barely repressed laughter. Crowley waited, wide-eyed and confused and smiling nervously as the angel’s mirth became infectious. 

Finally Aziraphale looked at him with shining eyes and a hint of tears. “Crowley, it was quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen. You two were beyond ridiculous. You were on the ceiling, or trying to hide in the shelves! Anthony climbed the drapes!”

Crowley let his jaw drop. His memory of yesterday was spotty at best, but he remembered throwing crepes and condiments through the thin space into the shop. He remembered hiding in an ally, shivering in grief at the realization that the angels might hate them for what they had done. 

He _didn’t_ remember clowning around in the shop! His cheeks burned in humiliation but he bit his tongue. Aziraphale laughing at their idiocy was better than the alternative.

“I do forgive you, Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated once he finished laughing. “But I must admit I’m surprised and disappointed that Anthony offered you something so powerfully intoxicating to bring you both to such a state.”

“Ngk,” Crowley winced. While his brain may have been foggy, it was still helpful enough to remember he and Anthony feeding off each other’s terrible suggestions, adding more catnip to the burner, more whiskey to the glass. “That might have been my fault though. I think I made things worse.”

“Oh, don’t say that, darling,” Aziraphale pleaded. “I really am trying not to be cross.”

“I didn’t know what would happen!” Crowley exclaimed. “I’m just sayin’ Anthony didn’t either.” Crowley chewed his lip at Aziraphale’s skeptical look. He thought Anthony had done it on purpose as a lark. And, to be fair, the other demon was fully capable of it. Crowley certainly was. 

It started off different, Angel,” Crowley explained. “He was angry. Just sparking furious with Zira. He just wanted to unwind and let go of his anger.” He went on to explain how they fed off each other, each thinking everything was brilliant. He explained how Anthony wouldn’t have been able to know how much worse it could be to indulge in catnip with another demon.

“I mean who else would Anthony have to experience this with him?” Crowley asked. “Zira's not affected by it and even if there _was_ another demon around, it wouldn’t be one he could risk being like that with. I’m probably the only one he could trust. Anthony has only ever used it _alone_.” Crowley sighed, feeling like shite for his part in this, not just because of what happened to the books (which was bad enough) but because it may have ruined one of the few things that actually helped Anthony relax.

“He only wanted to turn off the bad thoughts,” Crowley muttered, quietly. “He'd never had someone to share this with before. He didn't know what would happen.”

“It must have felt… incredibly freeing,” Aziraphale murmured, gently taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I suppose I can see how these circumstances are unique. Not just him having another demon friend to partake with, but the argument with Zira, and the abundance of crepes, and the thin space… A perfect storm, really.”

Crowley grit his teeth as more details of the husband’s apparent strife filtered through his memory. He looked around the bedroom at all the little details of a marriage. The closetful of very different sets of clothing. The white and black bath robes, the flowery artwork, and verdant potted plants. And the suspicious metal rings set in regular intervals all along the bedframe. Crowley stared at them and felt himself blush again.

“Uh… maybe we should go back to _our_ room,” he stammered. Aziraphale followed his gaze and smiled slyly at him. 

“I really am going to need to take some notes before we return to our own world, aren’t I?” he purred. Crowley made some vague noise, unable to come up with a witty response to that.

“Do you enjoy it?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly looking earnest and very interested. 

“It?” Crowley squeaked.

“Being tied up,” Aziraphale clarified simply. “Does it help you to turn the volume down on your thoughts? Do you feel better tied up?”

Crowley stared at his angel and forced himself to blink slowly. He felt like his face was on fire. There were tiny pinpricks of cold perspiration crawling along his skin. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He felt like he was going to explode, and Aziraphale just sat there, calm as anything, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Yes,” Crowley whispered faintly, because yes, bless it all to heaven. He did. He hated that he did. He hated that he wanted Aziraphale to _know_ he did. It went against everything he thought he knew about himself. How he thought things should be.

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale whispered back, smiling again. There was no mockering in his blue eyes, no judgement. Crowley felt his shoulders relax a bit. “If I’m being completely truthful, I’m quite taken with the idea of tying you up,” Aziraphale continued, finally blushing slightly, in contrast to Crowley’s crimson full-body flush. His erection, which had abandoned hope during their discussion of Anthony and catnip and consequences, was stirring to life once more against his thigh.

“If I’m being honest,” Aziraphale continued, “I’ve been entertaining a fantasy for quite some time, of taking control of your pleasure. Of giving you the thorough, proper, seeing to you deserve.”

“Nnngk, um. Oh?” Crowley swallowed, shivering in anticipation once again. Aziraphale nibbled his bottom lip and Crowley’s eyes zeroed in on the motion, the press of white teeth against plush pink flesh. He licked his own lips, staring as the teeth retreated back leaving a reddened mark for a moment before it was soothed by a casual swipe of a pink tongue. Crowley groaned, painfully aroused, and made himself raise his gaze back to Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Dunno about _‘deserve’_ ,” Crowley laughed weakly. “But that seems like a pretty simple fantasy to fulfill, Angel. And I’m more than happy to facilitate this seeing to, whenever you wish.”

“Oh, that’s just the beginning of it, dear,” Aziraphale admitted, scooting closer to Crowley and retaking his hands. Crowley hoped his palms weren’t too terribly clammy. The angel’s eyes were dark with lust now as he stared right into Crowley’s black soul, churning up the demon’s desire with the ease one might stoke a campfire. “You see, I don’t think I could stop at just one climax, my love. You’re so beautiful in your pleasure. I would have to leave you however long it took for you to be ready to come apart for me again. Over and over.”

“Not long,” Crowley squeaked, his voice high and constricted in his excitement. “No uh… you know, refractory period, me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, wide and gleeful. “Truly?” 

Crowley bit back a needy whine and nodded his head vigorously. Aziraphale’s joyful expression immediately turned into something dark and hungry as those lust dark eyes raked over his body. Crowley shivered and muffled a groan by squeezing his lips together. “Oh my dear, sweet, boy. You may come to regret telling me that.”

“Never,” Crowley panted. “Fuck, Angel. You have no idea wot you’re doing to me right now.”

“I have some,” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley jumped in alarm and then shuddered in pleasure as Aziraphale cupped his bollocks and gently rubbed them through the thin fabric of his pyjama bottoms. 

“Tss! Haa…” Crowley hissed before letting his head fall back, jaw slack as he rocked his hips into Aziraphale’s palm. “Nnnn Angel, don’t tease me. M’too close already.”

“But haven’t you been listening, my love?” Aziraphale whispered harshly, trailing maddening kisses up the side of Crowley’s throat. “I _want_ you to come apart for me. I want to whip you into frenzy, wild and frothing as the sea in a storm, crashing against the rocky shore of me.” 

Crowley moaned, cock throbbing and leaking through his bottoms as he thrust again against Aziraphale’s waiting palm. He tried to take the angel’s wrist, lift that firm cupped hand high enough to grant relief to his aching erection, but it was immovable. If anything, the grip merely tightened slightly around his bollocks as he groaned.

“Ungh! Angel I… Haa...ah! Please,” he whined, hanging his head to look down at the soft fingers fondling him below the tent of black cotton fabric. 

“I want to hear you howl,” Aziraphale insisted, his voice a low rasp against Crowley’s throat. “I want you helpless before me, begging just like that, coming for me, making a mess of yourself for me. I want you sobbing and exhausted from it, craving it still, letting me bend your body, your pleasure, to my will.”

“Yes… Yes Angel,” Crowley was panting, his tongue lolling from his mouth. “Fucking Christ! I want that too. I want it Angel. Please!”

“Are you sure, Crowley, my love?” Aziraphale asked sweetly. “Are you sure you understand what I’m asking for?” He rolled Crowley’s heavy sack again, pressing his fingers deep into the base of his straining cock and Crowley’s eyes rolled back at the exquisit pressure.

“Ah! Azirapha— Ah!”

“Crowley, I want to _ruin_ you,” Aziraphale told him, rolling him one more in his hand and Crowley whimpered helplessly as he came, his orgasm flowing through him almost reluctantly, leaving him feeling wrung out but unsatisfied. Aziraphale kissed his sweat soaked temple and snapped his fingers to clean up Crowley’s mess. Crowley, for his part, just glared at the angel sullenly.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. You told me you were close,” Aziraphale chided gently before grinning mischievously. “And we really can’t begin properly until we get some ropes.” 

“I think I know a guy who can get us some ropes,” Crowley sighed, finally flopping down on the bed with a broad smile. Aziraphale followed him down, leaning over him and kissing him soundly. Crowley hummed pleasantly into the kiss, letting his tongue move slowly against the angel’s, thrilling in the soft sighs he drew from that warm wet mouth.

“Mmm, I see you weren’t exaggerating about your lack of refractory period,” Aziraphale mused against his lips as Crowley’s cock stirred and twitched against the angel’s thigh. Crowley stroked his hands along the soft round curve of those thighs and entertained the notion of fucking them. That would be bloody glorious.

“I’m afraid if we don’t get up now, we might miss our window for acquiring our necessary supplies,” Aziraphale lamented, rolling away from Crowley’s grasping fingers. “If we leave them much longer, who knows what mood they’ll be in.”

“Idiots,” Crowley grumbled, feeling put upon. “So bleeding stupid. Wot’r they even fighting about? Their whole lives have been blessed near perfect!”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” Aziraphale smiled patiently at Crowley, as though he were being unreasonable. Crowley glared at him, annoyed that the angel seemed to be taking their side.

“D’you not see how bloody frustrating it is that everything was so much _easier_ for them?” he griped. “That they were always braver, or wiser than us at every turn?”

“Not every turn, surely,” Aziraphale sighed. “I’m certain we — "

“Name one thing,” Crowley cut him off with the challenge. “Name one single thing that we got right and they didn’t.”

He hated this dispute. He knew full well it was petty and stupid and would result in nothing more than cockblocking himself with his own petulence. He wished he could have left it alone, not said anything. Let his jealousy fester silently in his tar-black guts where Aziraphale wouldn’t have to look at it.

“All right,” Aziraphale relented, sitting up primly. Crowley rolled over so he wouldn’t see him scowling at himself over ruining the mood, but then Aziraphale continued with a firm, level voice. “You and I have never _discorporated_ one another. There is _one_ thing.”

Crowley blinked, his scowl morphing into a wobbly confused smile as he looked over his shoulder at the angel. “Pfff, wot!?” he snorted.

Aziraphale nodded gravely. “You and I made our own little non aggression pact after the Wall, long before the Arrangement came to be. They didn't, and… well, you remember how strict our mutual head offices had been about dealing with enemy agents on God’s new Earth…”

Crowley gaped. This just _couldn’t_ be true. “Are you saying they actually…” unable to wrap his mind around it, let alone his tongue, Crowley drew his thumb across his throat in a fatalistic pantomime. He gaped again when Aziraphale nodded once more. “I need to think about this,” Crowley whispered, rolling out of bed. He snapped himself dressed, and heard Aziraphale do the same. 

“You asked for something we got right,” Aziraphale told him, sounding mildly defensive. Crowley laughed, incredulous and faced the angel. 

“I _did_ ,” he agreed, shaking his head ruefully. “That’s a bloody surprising thing to toss out right out of the gate.”

“Well, I suppose I wanted to end the debate swiftly,” Aziraphale shrugged, smug bastard that he was. Crowley smirked wryly at him as he followed the angel downstairs. Seeing neither Anthony nor Zira about, Crowley gestured to the garden, holding the door for his love, his mind still trying to make sense of this revelation.

“They _killed_ each other?” he asked, keeping his voice low while they strolled through the garden.

“Discorporated,” Aziraphale needlessly corrected. “According to Zira it was all very regrettable. They were under explicit orders to destroy enemy agents on sight, and since we were —- I mean, _they_ were — the only such agents on Earth, they came across each other quite often, as we did, during the course of their work.”

“And fought,” Crowley pressed, still unable to picture it.

“Yes, although I’m afraid Anthony was rather outclassed. Neither of you were ever trained as a soldier before the fall, where as Zira and I —"

“He discorporated _Anthony_ ?!” Crowley spat, outraged on behalf of the other demon. “Just like _that_?”

“ _Who_ says they discorporated me?” Anthony’s snapped angrily from the huge apple tree. “They’re lying!”

Crowley and Aziraphale strode around the thick bole of the tree, and Crowley’s scowl slipped into an expression of bemused exhaustion upon finding his counterpart strung up with black rope and suspended horizontally from a thick branch. 

At this point the only thing surprising about finding the demon trussed up shibari style in the garden was that he was still fully clothed. Although he did raise an eyebrow at the fact that his own purple majesty dildo was sitting unused on Anthony’s back. He had so many questions, but the discorporation bombshell was still the most bothersome one. Aziraphale, apparently, disagreed.

“What in Heaven’s name are you doing in that tree?!” the angel squawked in alarm.

“Zira discorporated you?!” Crowley shouted, focused on the important matter. Anthony’s dark eyebrows rose high behind his dark glasses and he glanced between the two of them before settling on answering Crowley. 

“Yeeeeeah…” he shrugged. “Sss’not a big deal. Wos a long time ago and he got a few lucky—"

“A few!” Crowley shouted, feeling a bit unhinged at this point. “How many times did your husband discorporate you?”

“My 'husband', _never_ discorporated me,” Anthony barked back. “We weren’t married then. Weren’t even friends. Got along fine on the wall, and had a few laughs in the desert, but orders came up and we both had our jobs to do. S’all there is to it.”

“But how could…” Crowley began, losing steam. He looked plaintively at Aziraphale, trying to imagine actually trying to hurt the angel, let alone discorporate him! It made his chest ache just thinking about it. 

“Anthony, Would you… like some assistance out of that tree?” Aziraphale asked, eyeing the knots of rope wrapped around the demon with barely disguised interest. Crowley shook his head in wonder at them both. How could the angel be so calm in the face of this news? 

“How could he be thinking about sex at a time like this?” he demanded. Aziraphale scoffed, trying and failing to look scandalized by the accusation. 

“I was offering assistance to get him _down_!” he retorted, nose in the air.

“Yeah, I saw the way you were lookin’ at the knotwork, Angel,” Crowley snorted. “Real concern in your eyes there.”

“Well,” Aziraphale blushed again. “Can you fault me for being interested in Zira’s technique? Especially considering our previous conversation?”

Crowley swallowed, and dropped the subject. He couldn’t fault Aziraphale for it at all. Feeling himself flush with embassament, he pivoted his anger and aimed it at Anthony instead, snatching the dildo off his back and cuffing the demon upside the head with it.

“Oi! Don’t take my stuff!” he growled.

“Ow!” Anthony complained. “I asked first!”

“You bloody _didn’t!”_

“He asked _me_ , in fact,” Aziraphale interjected hastily, grabbing the toy out of Crowley’s hand before he could smack Anthony with it again. “While you were asleep. I told him it would be all right so long as it was returned in proper sanitary condition.”

“Never even got a chance to use it,” Anthony grumbled. 

Crowley stared at the other demon, the picture before him making even less sense. The ropes trussing Anthony up looked expertly done, and the demon didn’t seem to be in any distress or pain, and Aziraphale’s lustful looks were well deserved as there was something powerfully erotic about seeing the raven-haired demon bound up tightly, suspended in a presenting position. Crowley was once again struck by the simultaneous desires of wanting fuck Anthony as well as _be_ him.

But there was the matter of him being fully clothed, and the dildo having been placed on his back.

“Where’s Zira?” Crowley asked, trying to sound casual while he looked around the garden. He couldn’t imagine the angel would have gone far with his husband stuck like this. Then again, he’d used Sean to tie Anthony up, so the demon could easily free himself at any point, and if this was a punishment…

“He’s about _somewhere_ I think.” Anthony tried to shrug, the movement making him away side to side. “Probably wrapped himself in a glamour, watching us right now.”

“Might have done, indeed!” Zira said cheerfully from the thin air directly to Crowley’s right. One shrill undemonic-sounding shriek later Crowley found himself sprawled on the grass where he’d flung himself away in a panic. Aziraphale also looked taken aback, although with more dignity that Crowley managed.

Zira revealed himself, looking at his husband and pretending not to have seen Crowley disgrace himself. Anthony, however, was grinning down at him, sniggering. At least until Zira spoke up again.

“Crowley thought he would sneak off and sulk,” Zira explained before looking at Aziraphale, and gently taking back the large purple dildo. Both Crowley’s swallowed, in silent rapt attention as Zira once again pierced his husband with a steely grey glare. “He thought he could sow chaos in my bookshop without consequence.”

“I believe,” Anthony responded snidely, “that I was very apologetic for that and you politely told me to sod off and leave you alone.”

“Oh, is _that_ what you believe?” Zira laughed coldly. “No, you’re misremembering, dear husband. I listened to your apologies and told you I would gladly accept them once you restored my books. Something that seems more than fair considering you were the one who got them dirty.”

Crowley winced and reluctantly piped up. “Fair consequence maybe,” he drawled with a sheepish grin. “But I’m just as much t’blame. I should help make it right.”

“Oh, I absolutely agree,” Zira nodded, barely glancing at Crowley before skewering Anthony again with another glare. Anthony smirked up at his husband definitely. 

“Already said I wos sorry,” Anthony snorted. “Already said I’d fix your stupid books. All I wos gonna do was ...collect myself a bit. Wot’s wrong with that?”

Crowley rose to his feet warily watching the other two be weird to each other. He dusted himself off and silently joined Aziraphale who was watching the proceedings with avid interest and no sign of the disquiet Crowley was feeling.

_Weirder_ _still_. Crowley hated conflict, but Aziraphale hated conflict and bad manners and arguing like this in front of guests was decidedly both. And yet the angel looked calm as could be, as though this was just a casual discussion of the weather.

“ _Collect_ _yourself_ ,” Zira echoed mockingly. “Is that what you call it?” he waved the dildo accusingly in front of Anthony’s face. “You were going to disappear into your greenhouse and fuck yourself senseless with this toy! Admit it!”

“So wot if I wos?” Anthony challenged. “Maybe _you_ should admit you’re jealousss!”

Crowley noticed the way Anthony’s forked tongue darted around his sharp teeth as he hissed. The colour rising on his cheeks was mirrored on Zira’s as the angel smiled menacingly. His fists were balled up at his sides but there was no heat in his glare. Crowley blushed, realizing all at once that this was theatre. 

“Maybe I just don’t want you stretching out what’s _mine_ ,” Zira growled.

“Oh, if that were possible I think we’d know by now,” Anthony grinned and winked. Zira’s eyes flashed then with a dark hunger, very much like the one Crolwey had seen earlier on Aziraphale.

“Trying to tempt me, Serpent?” Zira whispered.

“ _Always_ , Angel,” Anthony leered before flicking his tongue at his husband salaciously. 

“If you two are about to have at it, can we borrow Sean,” Crowley asked loudly. His jeans were uncomfortably tight and all at once he remembered what they had come out here for. He was glad that his counterpart was about to get the railing he was so clearly after, but the scene was turning Crowley on and he wanted to get away before that became any more evident than it already was.

Anthony snickered again and tossed his hair out of his face, the very picture of bratty insolence. Crowley would be lying if he said he wasn’t mentally taking notes. “Well Angel?” he purred. “Wotta you say? Can they borrow Sean?”

Zira scowled at Anthony for another moment longer before he smiled slowly and visibly relaxed. Something about Zira’s apparent relaxation had the opposite effect on Anthony who frowned warily.

“Aziraphale,” Zira smiled pleasantly at his counterpart. “Might I have a word with you in private?”

“Oh no you don’t!” Crowley growled, gripping Aziraphale’s arm posessively. “Not again! Everytime he says something stupid and you two go off and plot something, I end up getting…” he trailed off weakly, blushing. The angels smiled innocently at him and Crowley wondered how much of this the two of them had already plotted while he and Anthony were asleep.

“Very well,” Zira shrugged. “I’ll ask you your opinion right here if I may.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale nodded, clearly playing along and ignoring Crowley’s suspicious stare. “How can I help?”

“Our drunken snakes have admitted to making a mess of the bookshop,” Zira began. “And _my_ Crowley has said _he’d_ clean up his mess, and make amends. Did I hear yours make a similar vow?”

“I believe he did,” Aziraphale grinned. “How shall they make amends though? That’s the question.” Crowley gave a resigned groan as the proverbial trap snapped shut around him.

“You bastards,” Anthony hissed, and if there was a hint of pride in his voice Crowley was willing to ignore it.

“Well, I think they should start by cleaning up the shop,” Zira said, after some exaggerated thought. “By hand, of course. They won’t learn their lesson from a simple miracle.

“You want us to repair your books by hand?” Crowley asked skeptically. Both angels looked physically repulsed by that, which Crowley thought was a _bit much._

“ _Lord_ no,” Zira answered, horrified. "You’ll not touch the books except to remove them _carefully_ to clean the shelves before replacing them where they belong. Aziraphale and I will repair them.”

“But you’ve already cleaned the shop,” Anthony stated, bemused. “That was one of the many things you hollered at me about this morning!” 

At least Crowley wasn’t the only one confused. Anthony had figured he was in a scene, but was now learning it was a scene inside a scene. Two Aziraphales was going to prove as dangerous for the demons as two Crowleys was for the angels.

“And you two will clean it _again_ ,” Aziraphale announced. 

“Every single of inch of it,” Zira agreed. “Under our constant… supervision.”

“Oh yes, absolutely. You troublesome demons are clearly not to be trusted,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Wily mischievous things.”

“Always a trick of their sleeves, these two,” Zira sighed with mock exhaustion. “Well, I suppose we’ve no choice but to take away their sleeves.”

_Ah._ Crowley smiled ruefully at the angels, catching on to their game. So there was going to be some reparations made, but not by cleaning.

By putting on a show.

“No sleeves,” Aziraphale agreed, walking a slow circle around Crowley. “No. Not a stitch in fact.”

“Might be cold,” Crowley joked, although he felt anything but cold at the moment. The thought of being stripped naked, made to clean the floor while the angels watched… It… It _should_ have been humiliating. It _was_ humiliating, but Crowley was also looking forward to it and he had no idea why. His pulse was racing and he was hard and dripping in his pants. Was this another kink? Did Anthony know about this? He’d have to ask about it later.

“As for borrowing Sean…” Zira continued before clicking his fingers. The black rope immediately vanished and reappeared in the angel’s hand. Anthony cried out in alarm and barely managed to get his feet under him as he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. Zira ignored his husband’s spiteful glare and passed the rope to Aziraphale. “You may keep it. Crowley can manifest and enchant another if he chooses to.”

“Oh, he’ll choose to,” Anthony snorted, rolling his eyes at himself. “Fool that he is.”

“Now, if you’re both ready,” Aziraphale grinned, stashing the rope in his coat pocket. “There is plenty of work for you to do. Best get started.”

“Would you mind fetching April first, darling?” Zira asked, placing a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “We’ll need her.”

The demon paused in the act of polishing his glasses to glance warily at his husband. “We will?” 

“Oh yes. You see, We promised Red here a threesome,” Zira grinned. “So once you two get the shop spic and span, and, assuming he’s willing…” he nodded at him but Crowley was suddenly too shocked and horny to speak or move. “Then we shall all head up to the old flat where you, my dear diabolical husband, are going to be made to sit quietly while my counterpart and I reduce _your_ counterpart to a quivering ruin.”

“Hrrk,” Crowley squeaked.

“Ngk,” Anthony gurgled, panic showing in his pale yellow eyes. “C’mon Angel… You can’t be serious. You’ve been teasing me all morning, and now you expect me to clean the shop, naked and wanting for the rest of the day and after _all_ _that_ …” his voice cracked. “You’re not even gonna let me _play_?”

“No,” Zira told him firmly. “And if you misbehave I might not let you come for the rest of the week.”

“Fuck, Angel,” Anthony groaned, and it looked like he was considering it!

“But if you’re good for me today…” Zira continued, his voice soft now and dripping with promise. “Then I’ll reward you.” He lightly stroked his fingers through his husband's hair.

“I’ll be good, Angel,” Anthony sighed, pressing his cheek into Zira’s palm.

“Good. Go fetch April please,” Zira murmured. “Then we’ll go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna make a series soon (Fiends With Benefits) to stick this fic in. Look for it with the next chapter (There should be a link) and subscribe so you'll know when Part two drops! 
> 
> Thanks again for the support. Your comments give me life.


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